Three Little Words
by T.L. Imela
Summary: "It is the unsaid words in a relationship that come back to haunt us the most." Post series, Gabriel grapples to understand his new relationship with Peter.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: ****This story takes place about six months after Season 4. After the end of Brave New World, Peter and Sylar entered into a relationship. We will see how and why as the story unfolds. I hope you enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.**

**Three Little Words**

The sharp whistle of the teapot interrupted Gabriel Gray's afternoon reading of the newspaper. He placed down the paper on the table before making his way into the kitchen. He opened one of the drawers looking for where spoons were kept...finding only a few dishrags, he proceeded to open the next drawer to find what he desired.

The apartment of Peter Petrelli was a familiar place, Gabriel having visited there many times, but lately he was beginning to discover it in a more detailed, intimate way. Gabriel had only recently begun coming into the apartment when Peter was not home...sometimes fixing dinner and sometimes simply having a cup of tea and waiting for the younger man's return.

It had been slightly uncomfortable at first, Gabriel admitted, as he poured the steaming tea into the small china cup...he had brought a few of his teacups over to Peter's apartment, seeing as Peter didn't drink much tea...it had been slightly awkward and almost a bit intimidating. Gabriel wasn't sure how he felt about it at first, Peter trusting him with a key to his apartment building, Gabriel letting himself in whenever he felt like it...what if Gabriel started coming over far too much and Peter realized what a mistake he had made?

"_You're not going to bother me." Peter had insisted, his lips quirking into that delightful boyish half-smile of his. He rushed his fingers through his thick, brown hair. "Just come over when you feel like comin' over. I wouldn't give you the key if I didn't want you to have it, okay?"_

_The comforting slap to Gabriel's shoulder somehow accentuated Peter's sincerity, and soon Gabriel was visiting Peter almost every night after Gabriel had left his own job at the bookstore. Peter would often come home later, his shifts as a paramedic long and sometimes unpredictable, so Gabriel wanted someone to be there for the young man to heat up a microwave dinner for him...brew him some coffee, his preferred drink...or simply to keep his bed warm at night. Sometimes that's all it was, for at times Gabriel would hear the door creak at three in the morning as Peter returned from his late shift...feel warm breath on the back of his neck as strong arms encircled him...Gabriel would be too sleepy to respond, but by hearing the soft, contented sigh he knew that Peter was happy just to have him there when he came home. _

A mischievous smile quirked Gabriel's lips as he took a drink of his tea. _Sometimes when Peter came home there would be angry, frustrated murmurs...on nights like these Peter would make Gabriel wake up...make him wake up with Peter's forceful, hot mouth smashing against his own...Peter's encompassing hands threading through Gabriel's dark, thick hair...Peter would take out all of his anger at himself for the lives he couldn't save that day...for not being that hero he always needed to be...and channel it into a tempest of passion that Gabriel was only too happy to welcome...it was times like these Gabriel knew why Peter had insisted he take the key...what would Peter do without him...what kind of inner anguish would tear at his soul on nights like these without Gabriel to grasp onto for dear life..._

Gabriel turned towards the window and watched his own reflection, taking another thoughtful sip of tea. _What would Peter do without him...Peter would still be Peter, of course, beautiful, sweet, selfless Peter...but, God, what would Gabriel do without Peter?_

Gabriel often didn't like to dwell on thatthought; after all, he knew exactly what he _had _done without Peter...who he had been before Peter had showered him with love and mercy that Gabriel had never done anything to deserve.

_Peter was so good to him_. Gabriel knew he hardly deserved such goodness in his life, knew he certainly didn't deserve the love that Peter so mercifully and generously granted him. At times, it scared Gabriel to be so happy with Peter. Gabriel was not supposed to be happy, had never been this happy in his whole life, and it sometimes felt as if something terrible was always waiting for him right around the corner. But Gabriel tried not to dwell on those thoughts and tried not to think that maybe he deserved that terrible lurking feeling...he didn't want to wonder if the happiness he was experiencing now was only meant to intensify the pain once Paradise was lost to him once and for all.

"_You can't think like that." Peter murmured, tracing Gabriel's face with his finger as he looked the other man over thoughtfully with sharp, hazel eyes. "You can't think that every time you're happy something bad'll happen...that'll just drive you crazy, man."_

"_I know." Gabriel hissed but his apprehensions remained. His eyes slipped shut as he allowed Peter to discover every inch of his cheeks...his nose...his forehead... "God, Peter, it's just...you're too good to me..."_

And then there were those _words_ Gabriel was now growing so dangerously accustomed to hearing. Those three beautiful words that both transfixed and exalted Gabriel every time he heard them. It didn't matter the situation, or the way they were said...Gabriel's hand tightened around the small china cup as he squeezed his eyes shut at the flow of memories.

"_I love you." Peter would smile at him, taking a microwave dinner out of Gabriel's hands...as if such an action was worthy of such words..._

"_Hey..." Peter would whisper into Gabriel's sensitive ear when he thought the other man was sleeping, certain the words would be lost to the night. "...I love you."_

"_Ah...God, I love you..." The words would slip past his lips during the height of their passion...he would shout them in a dark, husky voice as his head dipped and body shook. Gabriel wished he was able to return those words during their lovemaking...but Peter never seemed to mind being the only one to express them while they were being intimate._

"_Have a good day." Peter would wish him, placing a quick kiss on Gabriel's lips and a small touch to his elbow. "I love you."_

Gabriel pursed his lips in thought as a small pang settled in his stomach. And how often had he returned these words of affection to Peter? Gabriel had never spoken them at all..._never even whispered them in the hush of the night..._and it puzzled him as to why Peter never seemed to mind. Surely, he deserved to hear those beautiful words more than Gabriel ever did.

But somehow the words always got stuck in his throat. It wasn't that Gabriel wasn't sure if he returned Peter's love or not..._after all, he had loved Peter far longer than Peter might ever realize_...but for some reason they were such difficult...exposing...words to vocalize.

Maybe it was because his love for Peter had been so confusing for so long, those old feelings of unease with the words had carried over._ After all, _Gabriel thought resentfully_, when had he first decided he loved Peter? In some perverse, sickening moment when he realized that Peter could heal...when the crimson river that ran from the gash on the young man's head had been quickly closing...when those sharp, hazel eyes flashed in defiance, effectively denying the satisfaction of ripping open his skull and seeing what wonderful powers laid inside? _

While he hadn't exactly loved Peter then in the sense that Gabriel understood his love for the young man now...it had always been Peter that Gabriel chased after...it had always been Peter that destiny had pushed into his life again and again...it had always been Peter. Gabriel fingered the rim of his cup; he sometimes had a strong urge to explain these things to Peter, to tell the young man that it had _always _been him that Gabriel had longed for..._Peter had been the one all along; the song of salvation that kept piercing Gabriel's otherwise dark, twisting thoughts._

But Peter would probably not like to hear such things. Peter still didn't like to hear stories about Gabriel's past, his eyes darkening and lips quirking uncomfortably whenever Gabriel walked too close towards the edge of such subject matters. Gabriel tried to respect that, but he still wondered...still wondered if he could convey his love any better if Peter knew that Gabriel had been wanting him..._in any way he could have him_...since Gabriel first realized that the man who had thwarted his attack on the cheerleader could also never die. Peter was the angel that would kill Gabriel's demons. And Peter was that angel...and Gabriel's demons were now slowly dying every time he surrendered himself into Peter's broken wings...

_It was Gabriel who had broken those wings...maybe now he could mend them...if he continued to care for Peter...continued to be there for him whenever the selfless young man needed him. Gabriel delighted in being able to care for Peter's apartment now, in caring for Peter when he returned...maybe it would eventually help fade those scars that Gabriel himself had etched on Peter's soul. Maybe if Gabriel could someday say I love you in return..._

Gabriel picked his head up as he heard the door to Peter's apartment click open. Gabriel's eyes shifted towards the clock on the wall_...two minutes fast_...and realized that Peter was indeed due to arrive home from his shift at the hospital.

Sure enough, the young man pushed open the door with his shoulder and slid into the apartment. He still wore his paramedic uniform, although the shirt was becoming a bit untucked from the long day. His thick, brown hair fell messily into his face and his shoulders slumped as he shut the door behind him, hazel eyes hooded with more than just exhaustion.

"Peter...you're home." Gabriel murmured, taking a few steps towards him. Peter failed to greet him in return and Gabriel began to sense that something might have gone wrong at the hospital that day. "Is everything okay?"

Peter gave a soft sigh, finally glancing up to meet Gabriel's eyes. Gabriel pursed his lips in dismay. Unfortunately, recognizing when hurt swam in Peter's softened gaze was something Gabriel had become all to accustom to.

"Hey, Gabriel." Peter finally relented, running his hand through his hair to shake it from his eyes. "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. It was just a long day."

"What happened?" Gabriel knew he probably should've moved forward now...offered to hold Peter or maybe just put comforting hands on the young man's shoulders...but something told him that Peter didn't wish for Gabriel's touch at the moment. Peter wanted to be strong.

_Peter always wanted to be the strong one._

"I..." Peter gave a heavy sigh of frustration, his fist clenching subconsciously at his side. He shook his head again, beginning to move farther into the room. "It was just...I dunno...you shouldn't worry about it."

"I made macaroni and cheese." Gabriel offered, jerking his head towards the pot on the stove. "And...and tea." He lifted the cup in his hands towards Peter's dejected face.

Peter nodded, and Gabriel knew that the words had barely reached his ears. Peter's thoughts were miles away from the apartment kitchen and still with whatever horror had taken place at the hospital that day. Peter absentmindedly ran his fingers through his thick hair once more, while making his way towards the stove for dinner.

Gabriel was silent as he continued to watch Peter spoon macaroni into the bowl Gabriel had placed out for him on the counter. Gabriel squinted his gaze at Peter in concern...the young man seemed to be filled with something terrible that he was barely successful in containing.

"Peter..." Gabriel called out, softly. He reached out to place a large hand on Peter's stooped shoulder, but before the contact could be made, a loud clatter sounded as Peter threw the spoon back into the pot. Gabriel jerked his hand back in surprise, as Peter turned to slam his now trembling fist into the counter, his face red and jaw clenched with frustration and anger. This movement seemed to effectively release his inner demons as Peter's fist was now colliding repeatedly on the counter, the old paint cracking loudly beneath the force of his fury.

"Peter, stop it!" Gabriel shouted, rushing over to grab onto Peter's arms from behind him. Peter only thrashed a few more times, angry grunts slipping past his lips, before allowing Gabriel's strong grip to subdue him.

"What happened today?" Gabriel demanded, pressing Peter's back flesh against his chest and placing his cheek on top of Peter's soft hair. When Peter didn't answer, Gabriel turned to press soft kisses to the top of the young man's head, hoping to soothe whatever raged inside of him. "Shhh...shhh, Peter. Talk to me. Talk to me, please."

"It's..." Peter throat tightened as he sucked in a deep breath, his own hands coming up to grip onto Gabriel's arms with trembling force. "I...we got a call. A woman stuck in a burning car. I had your telekinesis, I was able to cut her out...to _s-save her..._" Peter shook his head angrily. "I thought...hey, I guess I picked the right power today... guess I was a big _hero _today..."

Gabriel felt Peter begin to tremble beneath him and in return tightened his hold. "You _are _a hero, Peter."

"No...no...we got another call. There had been a shooting. A man had...had shot his ex-wife and...and their three k-kids." Peter took in a heavy, ragged breath, his head dipping towards his chest. "Then he shot himself."

Gabriel went silent in thought. Obviously, the man hadn't been able to stand the thought of his love leaving him and possibly finding comfort elsewhere..._the idea of Peter leaving flashed quickly through Gabriel's mind and his grip on Peter's arms burned all the tighter_...what a selfish man.

"I..." Peter gritted his teeth, his jaw working furiously. When he finally was able to speak again, his voice was low and shaky. "I _saved him_. I was able to save him. But..." His fingers dug sharply into Gabriel's arms. "I couldn't save _them_. Can...can you believe that? I could save the man who _murdered_ his wife...and children...but I couldn't save..." He trailed off his eyes gazing over to the far side of the wall. He bravely pressed on, "And...and I _know _it's not right...but I'm so angry...I'm so _angry_. Dang it, Gabriel, _why _couldn't I save _them_?"

_Peter saved the murderer._

Gabriel remained silent, continuing to press whispering kisses to the top of Peter's head, breathing in the scent of the other man's hair deeply. He hugged Peter closer to his chest, now taking in deeper breaths as well...he hadn't liked Peter's story.

_Peter saved the murderer. In the end, was that the only person Peter was able to save? He had lost so many of the people he cared for... family members laid dead...and yet he saved the murderer hadn't he?_

"I'm sorry." Peter whispered, pressing his cheek onto Gabriel's arm and taking in deep breaths. "I'm sorry I got so angry. It's just so hard sometimes..."

"Don't apologize." Gabriel murmured, moving his arms so that his hands could be entwined with Peter's. "You don't need to apologize."

Peter gave Gabriel's hand a loving squeeze. He craned his neck backwards as he twisted his head to capture the taller man's lips with his own. The kiss was already burning with intensity; Peter's mouth moving to open Gabriel's in a heat of fevered passion.

Gabriel let out an eager grunt as Peter wriggled around to face him. Gabriel's hands began to snake up the other man's strong arms and shoulders before tangling themselves within Peter's thick mane. Peter softly moaned into Gabriel's mouth and the taller man responded to this by giving Peter's hair a rough pull.

Gabriel finally broke his lips away from Peter's, his gaze intensifying as he slipped a large hand down to cup Peter's face. Peter looked frustrated; clearly he wished to continue their embrace and to calm his anguish. He opened his mouth to protest, but Gabriel placed a finger to Peter's lips and hushed him gently.

"I'm gonna take care of you, Peter." Gabriel murmured bringing his nose down to press into Peter's warm cheek. "You're always so selfless...so giving...tonight you're gonna be selfish. I'm gonna let you be selfish tonight."

Peter watched Gabriel with uncertain eyes, his lips quirking to the side, his brown hair falling messily down his face. He pressed his cheek into Gabriel's cupped hand, closing his eyes for a second before they fluttered open again. "Gabriel...you don't have to..."

"Shhh." Gabriel soothed, and his stomach was tightening pleasantly at the thought of granting Peter the chance to be the selfish one for once...for Gabriel to be able to give while Peter took and took...the thought was both comforting while being exhilaratingly arousing. His thumb stroked Peter's face while his hand continued to hold him. "Shhh. Be selfish, Peter. That's not a request."

Peter gave a soft chuckle, his eyes flitting to the ground with a shyness that was so endearing. But when they lifted back up there was a darkness present that sent pleasant chills down Gabriel's spine. Peter gave a short nod, his eyes now gazing into the other man's. He gave a small moan as Gabriel leaned forward to nibble at the base of his neck. His hands gripped onto the back of Gabriel's neck as he closed his eyes and continued to moan appreciatively, Gabriel's mouth paying special attention to the area.

Gabriel gave a small hiss as a mischievous smile broke his lips. _Giving was so wonderful...Gabriel had taken for so long...taken and never felt filled...giving was such a beautiful feeling...giving satisfied every hunger Gabriel ever suffered from._

Peter's soft moans were so beautifully erotic that Gabriel let out a rough grunt, his hands itching to touch more of Peter...the paramedic uniform was beginning to feel as if it were only getting in the way of the body that now belonged to Gabriel.

_Tonight's about Peter_. He reprimanded himself, slipping his lips off of Peter's throat and hissing in a dark, raspy voice, "What...what would you like me...to do...for you?" He pressed his warm forehead flesh against Peter's and took in a deep breath. "Peter...?"

Peter gave a loud snort; his eyes slipped shut as his hands continued to grip and stroke the back of Gabriel's neck. When Peter finally spoke, his breath burned against Gabriel's face, even as his voice registered barely above a whisper. "I'm...really sore. I was..." Gabriel had to lean closer, his ear practically touching Peter's lips as the giving young man continued to whisper his needs, "...I was standing...all day. Can...can you...?"

Gabriel hushed him again with forceful lips, sliding his hand down the length of Peter's shuddering form. He felt Peter's broad chest..._his rapid heartbeat..._his taut stomach, and briefly ran a couple of teasing fingers a little lower, pleased when he elicited a surprised gasp from his lover. The touch was fleeting, however, as Gabriel pressed his hand back into Peter's, gently guiding him towards the bedroom's shower. He smiled, contently, when Peter followed him in quiet anticipation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Peter leaned his head back against Gabriel's shoulder as he felt the warm water encompass his aching form. _

_Gabriel kissed the side of Peter's neck gently as he massaged the other man's back and shoulders tenderly, intermediately placing kisses on him when necessary. Peter seemed very appreciative, his head lolling back as Gabriel continued to work his fingers deeply into the muscles of Peter's tense back. Peter would sometimes release a pained groan, but Gabriel knew that it had to hurt before it felt better...things always hurt before they felt better, after all. And after Gabriel loosened the muscles, he knew that Peter would be gasping only in pleasure. Gabriel continued on, bathing Peter by massaging shampoo into his thick hair...gently rinsing it off...all the while still placing small, open-mouthed kisses against his lover's soaked neck._

_Sometime later, dark moans and grunts of passion filled the hushed stillness of the darkened bedroom as Peter continued to push himself into Gabriel's slick, trembling form. Peter's gentle shyness and embarrassment over his earlier outburst seemed to have long since melted away. Now those sharp, hazel eyes were filled with dark desperation, as Peter thrust violently into Gabriel; angry rasps slipping past his precious lips._

_Gabriel felt everything coiling and tightening as the hot pressure in his stomach and lower regions were reaching its breaking point. He slammed his head back into his pillow, his hands fisting into the sheets beneath him as his back arched and twisted up into Peter._

_There was something so beautiful in giving...in the fact that he was now able to be a calming presence in Peter's life...that Peter could look at him now with only love in his eyes._

_Peter saved the murderer...why that thought had chosen to whisper across Gabriel's mind now was proof that he would never allow himself to be happy. Peter had indeed saved the murderer while he had not been able to save the innocent...did that ever make Peter as angry as it had today? Gabriel knew that there was a time not too long ago in which Peter was consumed by his anger towards the taller man._

_But Gabriel wasn't that man anymore, and Peter knew that...a wave of pleasure hit him and he let out a choked moan as his body contorted beneath Peter's heated form. Gabriel blinked up, noting that Peter's hair had fallen down and was sticking to the sweat on his face. He was always so beautiful in his abandonment._

"_Ah..." Peter cried out, his head dipping towards his chest as his lips parted beautifully, his eyes squeezing shut. "Oh, God, Gabriel...I love you..."_

_Gabriel let out a strangulated cry at the same time as he released, billowing flames rushing through his trembling form. His back arched off the bed and into Peter's slick, heaving chest. So many things were burning through his racing mind...giving...taking...saving... wondering why he could never say 'I love you' to Peter while they were being intimate together. Peter deserved to hear those words more than Gabriel ever did and he needed to try to say them at least._

"_Ahhh..." Gabriel cried out, his shaking hands jutting out to grip onto Peter's jerking hips. "H-hit me, h-hit me!"_

_Those hadn't been the words he had meant to say at all, and his eyes flashed towards Peter in slight fear. But Peter was still lost in his climb, eyes still wild and pupils dilated. Gabriel was gasping for air, almost shocked when Peter subconsciously raised his trembling hand to lightly tap Gabriel on the side of the face._

_The action was electrifying, almost intensifying the blazing fire that was churning in Gabriel's lower stomach as he dipped his head back into the pillow. Giving...taking...he wanted to give and give and give...and Peter to take and take and take..._

"_HARDER!" He screamed, and although the last of his spasms were now cooling, the erotic fire of the moment remained ever as hot._

_He wasn't sure why he said that either and he instantly regretted it when he saw Peter's eyes flash open, the rhythm of his hips stalling._

"_Wha...what?" Peter demanded, bringing one shaky hand off of Gabriel's shoulders to brush his hair out of his eyes._

_Peter's eyes still had an animalistic intensity in them, his jaw clenched furiously and his breathing deep and belabored. He was so near his release and Gabriel wanted to help him get there. He cursed himself for his sudden strange and confusing words...tonight was supposed to be about Peter._

_Gabriel sucked in deep breaths, shaking his head quickly as he brought his hands up to give Peter's damp face a loving caress. "I...I said...you're...a-amazing..."_

_Peter said nothing, finding his rhythm again and reestablishing his firm grip on Gabriel's hips. He thrust into Gabriel only a few more times before he let out a loud cry, spasms coursing through his body as his head buried itself on top of Gabriel's chest._

_Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around Peter's arching back, running soothing and cooled hands over him again and again. Gabriel had said the wrong thing...he had meant to say I love you...what was wrong with him...what __was_ _wrong with him?_

_Peter would bring this up, Gabriel thought, a bad taste forming in his mouth. He rested his chin on top of Peter's head...listening to Peter gasp for air as his body recovered...his heart slamming against Gabriel's chest._

_Well, Gabriel didn't have to talk about anything he didn't want too...Peter would bring it up but Gabriel could just as easily deflect it. Peter didn't have to make him feel perverse or dirty for words shouted during the whirlwind of intimacy._

_Gabriel closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh at almost the same time Peter did. Gabriel felt guilty...he had meant to say I love you._

_And he didn't know what he wanted to say when Peter brought it up._

Gabriel looked over at Peter; the man had been uncharacteristically quiet after their time together. He could tell Peter was deep in thought as the younger man gently stroked the dark hair that wisped across Gabriel's chest. They were both lying together, still naked, the silence of the room slowly erasing the dark cries of before.

Gabriel pouted; he wished Peter would just say something. This was worse, wondering what kind of thoughts were going through the young man's head..._thoughts about Gabriel and what else could possibly be wrong with him, no doubt._

He couldn't take it anymore. "I meant to say...something else..."

"So do you like..." Peter fell silent as their words collided together.

Gabriel shook his head and gave a small nod towards Peter. "You first."

Peter gave a small half-grin, his fingers still gently sliding down the length of Gabriel's bare chest. "I just was wonderin'...I guess...do...do you like bein' hit? Like during..."

"No." Gabriel insisted, quickly. He then pursed his lips, hesitantly, before adding, "I mean...I didn't mind it...when you gave me a little slap. That was...that was kind of exciting because I never expected that out of you..."

Peter gave a small blush, his eyes blinking quickly. "Look, I'm okay with trying things you like...you don't have to be afraid to ask. I just..." Peter reached down to wrap his hand around Gabriel's and the taller man gratefully accepted, giving it a relieved squeeze. "I just don't wanna hurt you...and I don't want it to be like before. When you thought that I _needed _to hurt you...in order to love you. That I needed to hurt you to feel better. It's...it's not like that anymore. I don't want it to _ever_ be like that again. It...it was wrong of me to have ever hurt you before...and I'm sorry."

"I know, Peter." Gabriel murmured, but the pit in his stomach was only growing. Peter had apologized to him...apologized to him for what? It wasn't his fault that when Gabriel tried to say _I love you_ he only ended up saying things that upset Peter.

Peter brought a finger up to trace against Gabriel's warm, wet lips. He gave a small, quirk of his head to one side. "So...can you tell me what you meant by that?" He frowned as Gabriel instantly began to pull away from his touch, feeling irritated that Peter continued to try and read into his words.

Peter let his hand drop to Gabriel's chest again, "Look, I only ask because I don't wanna keep making the same mistakes with you."

"I _know_. But I—I don't like being slapped...and I...I don't want you to hurt me anymore..." Gabriel flustered, his face flushed as he ran a hand through his damp hair, giving it a small shake in frustration. "Everything's fine, Peter."

Peter pursed his lips, mirroring Gabriel's frustration. It seemed as if he wanted to protest more, but he simply bit his bottom lip in discontentment instead. "Alright, as long as you're okay."

"I am." Gabriel insisted, turning his dark gaze back to Peter's, his eyes sweeping over the young man's face before daring to trail lower. Peter had such a beautiful body...Gabriel's eyes drifted back up to survey the entirety of the young' man shivering, sweat-slicked form. Gabriel was pleased to see the dark tension of before had left Peter's face; his muscles relaxed as his eyelashes were now softly fluttering against his cheeks..._Peter always fell asleep first._

Gabriel pursed his lips, softly. He didn't want to go to sleep yet and he still wanted to talk to Peter about less upsetting things.

"How are you feeling, Peter?" He began, softly, his lips nipping at Peter's shoulder blade until the young man's eyes fluttered open again.

"Me?" Peter gave his soft, half-smile, reaching his arms over his head to stretch, the motion elongating his lean form. "I feel good...very relaxed."

Gabriel returned his smile, rushing one of his large hands up into Peter's dark, brown hair. He stroked the strands between his sensitive fingers, exploring every texture and wisp beneath his hands. "I had a good day. I had a lot of customers stop in at the store."

"Oh, yeah." Peter's eyes stayed open, now moving to gaze into Gabriel's with interest. "I meant to ask you how it's going. That's real good, man."

Gabriel nodded, pulling Peter firmly against him as he tightened his grasp against the young man's form. "Yeah. It is good..._everything's _good right now...isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. It's great." Peter pressed his soft lips into the corner of Gabriel's, adding a small, loving bite as well. "And I want it to stay like that. I want us to always feel like we can talk about anything, okay?"

Peter's words placed a playful thought in Gabriel's mind, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He could easily put this back in Peter's court.

"Well, if that's true, you still haven't told me any of your fantasies, Peter." Gabriel murmured, pressing his warm lips against Peter's ear. He breathed out a soft chuckle, "And I've been asking you for six months now."

He felt Peter stiffen beneath him, obviously taken aback by the suddenness of the question. "I thought you'd stop asking me after a while." Peter retorted, coolly, as if still not yet ready to forgive Gabriel for brushing off Peter's earlier concerns.

Gabriel was intent on making Peter forgive him, however, as he wrapped a leg around the young man's waist and pulled Peter flesh against his chest. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of Peter's neck and gave a dark chuckle. "Well, guess what? I'm never releasing you from this bed until you tell me a fantasy that you have."

Peter pushed up against him, but Gabriel only pressed the young man more firmly into his body. His lips broke into a smile against Peter's damp neck as he heard Peter give a snort of laughter as well. It was okay to keep pushing this...Peter's response was definitely more receptive than it had been when the subject had been broached previously.

Gabriel bit his bottom lip, his arms squeezing Peter all the tighter, "It's been six months, Peter. You need to tell me. You need to tell me or I'm keeping you here forever..."

"You're so crazy..." Peter snorted, but Gabriel heard the gentleness in his tone. Finally, all the wriggling and protesting settled, and Peter gave a content sigh as he leaned his head on top of Gabriel's. "Okay..._one _fantasy. But I'm warning you, it's not that exciting..."

"I don't care. I want to hear all about your boring fantasies..." Gabriel laughed, the thought amusing him greatly. He felt Peter give him a small swat to his shoulder and Gabriel only laughed louder.

"God, Gabriel...I swear..." But Peter's gentle taps against Gabriel's back were greatly comforting after what had just transpired between them. Peter took in a deep breath of air before letting it out, his chest lifting and falling against Gabriel's heated form. "Okay, okay, lemme see...alright I got one."

Gabriel wriggled out of Peter's grasp so that he could see the young man's face when he spoke. The thought of finally being allowed into one of Peter's secret fantasies made his stomach clench and tumble in anticipation.

Peter seemed to note the widening of Gabriel's dark eyes and gave a self-depreciating snort. "I'm telling you, you're gonna be disappointed. I...I wanna..." Peter's eyelids fluttered as his gaze darted down in order not to meet Gabriel's. "I've always wanted to...make love in a bathtub."

Gabriel's lips quirked to the side as he tried to keep any hint of smiling off of his face. This was very serious, after all. "In a bathtub? I...I like that one."

Peter gave a small shrug, his eyes still not quite meeting Gabriel's. "I told you there wasn't much too it. I just always thought it'd be a sexy environment...you know it's so warm and relaxing...and to make love there...I dunno..." Peter gave a small, uncertain laugh his eyes finally darting up towards Gabriel's. "It's your turn, you know."

"I don't have fantasies." Gabriel countered, giving Peter a small, playfully disapproving smack to the hip as he added, "I don't have a dirty mind like you, Peter. You and your wild bathtub sex..."

Peter gave a rough laugh, his voice still dark and husky from their intimacy. He nodded, a bit self-mockingly, but Gabriel noted the slight seriousness that slipped into his voice as he spoke, "I won't ever think you're dirty, Gabriel. Tell me one. Or I'm never letting _you _up from this bed again."

"Is that a promise?" Gabriel teased, his hand still running absentmindedly through Peter's hair again. "I'd like to never leave this bed with you."

"We're not ever having sex again either, we're just gonna stay here, staring at each other until you tell me..." Peter insisted, his voice starting out very serious until both he and Gabriel dissolved into laughter at the ridiculousness of his statement.

Gabriel pressed loving kisses against Peter's forehead before ending at the tip of his nose. "Well, we can't have that, can we? We still haven't acted out any amazing bathtub fantasies..."

Gabriel gave Peter an apologetic smile as the young man swatted his shoulder again. Gabriel decided to concede, trying to think of something he always wished to experience with Peter while making love.

_But it made him feel so vulnerable...so vulnerable to open up to Peter like this...to say words like I love you. It was okay for Peter to be vulnerable. It was okay, because Gabriel would never stop loving Peter. He would never make Peter sorry that he shared himself so completely and honestly. After all, it was impossible for anyone to stop loving Peter...but Gabriel...Gabriel..._

_If only he could keep Peter in this bed forever...maybe tie those beautiful wrists together and press them down into the sheets...so that he was at Gabriel's mercy. And Gabriel would have his way with Peter...he could bring Peter only love and contentment...maybe release Peter from his restraints only once he had caused Peter to release again and again._

"What if we were together in a public place?" Gabriel blurted out, the thought suddenly amusing him to no end. He gave another dark chuckle, his lips burning against the side of Peter's face. Peter could be so uptight sometimes and it made Gabriel laugh to think what Peter's response would be to such a fantasy.

"Like where?" Peter's reply and his unassuming tone surprised Gabriel to no end. Apparently, the young man's feisty nature was not going to allow Gabriel to outdo him tonight.

Gabriel felt his stomach flip pleasantly. _He loved being able to talk to Peter like this...about anything...about private things that he had never dared speak to anyone else about before. He meant to throw Peter off with his made up fantasy; to have fun with Peter rather than to share any real vulnerability that could then possibly be shut down. But since the young man was apparently in such a fiery mood tonight, Gabriel decided not to disappoint him._

"Like...like in a..." Gabriel's voice turned scandalous as he lowered his tone to barely above a whisper, once more pressing his lips against the young man's ear. "_...confessional_..."

"_What_? Gabriel!" Peter squirmed in Gabriel's arms, obviously horrified at the insinuation. "Are you...?"

But Gabriel could no longer suppress his laughter, and he welcomed Peter's indignant sputters of abuse, calling Gabriel an idiot, saying that he had no clue why Gabriel had to be so weird sometimes.

"Just for making that up, I am grabbing you in public someday and making love to you." Peter snapped, but Gabriel could tell that he wasn't really angry. "Whenever it's going to be least convenient for you."

Gabriel gave a soft laugh, rolling himself over so that he was now pressed on top of Peter's lean body. "Why don't I just save you the trouble and make it up to you now?"

Peter allowed a small laugh to slip past his beautiful lips, his head quirking to the side with obvious endearment for Gabriel. "You know I love you, right?"

Gabriel gave a small nod, drawing himself forward to capture Peter's soft lips with his own. If he couldn't say _I love you_ with words...

Peter's eyes widened as Gabriel began to drag his warm mouth down the length of Peter's form. Gabriel continued his downward descent, his lips searching for the sensitive area just beneath Peter's stomach. He delighted when he felt Peter throw his head back into the pillow as a loud, husky cry grated past his throat. Gabriel continued his consuming administrations to Peter's growing arousal, noting how Peter's shaky hand fumbled for the lamp by the nightstand. Soon, both of them were cloaked in darkness as Peter's trembling moans only intensified.

_After all, what are words? Only Gabriel knew how to make Peter cry out like this...only Gabriel knew which spots to caress with his tongue and which to consume with his mouth...only Gabriel knew Peter's secret fantasy...only Gabriel had the key to Peter's apartment...only Gabriel was trusted with the dark, troubling stories of Peter's day...and only Gabriel loved Peter._

_No, no, that wasn't true, of course. Only Peter loved Gabriel._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and/or added this story to their favorites list. I am glad you are enjoying it so far!**

**Chapter 3**

_He remembered a time when the shadows had been important, when they had been necessary for his survival. He wished no one to see his face, hidden under the worn ball cap, his body shrouded in the dark, his black coat to make him one with the night. He had to hide his shame, his guilt, as some terrible driving force kept begging him to take, take, take...more and more powers...it was never enough for him. He needed to know more...to have more...to understand everything until his life could finally make sense, until he could finally be worth something._

_But the cold victory of the night always lead to the guilt-riddled aftermath in which he would scrawl on his walls in endless pleas of forgiveness...Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...his hands drenched in blood-red paint...soaking into his skin where the blood of another had stained only hours ago. His mind would hurt during these times, racing and reeling. His conscience felt like a pair of hands choking him slowly. Everything hurt...but everything had always hurt. And it hurt worse to not know, to not have, to not be the most special..._

_He picked up the newspaper one morning, holding it in his hand that was still covered in blood-red paint from the night before. At one time having his hands still dirtied would have bothered him to no end...things were better if they were clean and neat...but now he found he didn't care. There was a new dark compulsion taking over his mind and he was surrendering himself over to it._

_His eyes flashed as a news article leapt out at him. A girl had rushed into a burning train wreckage and saved a man. She was a hero. But more importantly, without explanation, she had emerged from the flames without a single burn._

_She couldn't get hurt. She could never hurt._

_He always hurt._

_He wanted to know how that worked...to never hurt again._

_So it was again in the shadows of the night that he stalked his prey...the Texas high school's homecoming. It was so trivial, so pointless how these young people...children really...seemed to think this night was of some great importance in their lives. It meant nothing, and they all meant nothing._

_Only she meant something. She meant something because she was special. She had that delightful power, that delicious ability...but soon he would have it, he would have what made her so special._

_He waited in the shadows, using his telekinesis to turn the power off. It was better to operate in darkness. After all, what would his mother think...? No, no...he pushed those thoughts deep down and buried them, focusing instead on his victim. He could hear the voices of two young girls emanating forth. They were arguing, but their words were not reaching him. He was much too focused on the throb-throb-throb of the crimson blood coursing through his veins, his heart slamming against his ribcage, his adrenaline flowing as he felt the power and control that came with stalking her...luring her into his trap...setting the stage to steal her power from her and make it his for always. _

_She was scared...frightened like a small, innocent animal trapped but unaware of the danger that lurked just around the corner. The other girl was scared too, but she was hardly registering as a person who was present to him. All his focus was on HER...the special one._

_The other was smarter though, leaving while she still had the chance. He'd let her go, she was of no consequence, she had nothing he wanted. The special one remained where she was, her stance and defiant words telling him that she didn't sense the approaching danger at all. Foolish girl, silly, silly girl... _

_He was right behind her, but she still didn't sense him. It was almost too easy...it certainly wasn't his fault he was bigger and stronger than her...that she had something he so desperately wanted and needed...but had no way in which to defend herself. He certainly couldn't be blamed for that._

_He grabbed her by the arm with lightening quickness, using telekinesis to help throw her up against the wall, pushing her up as high as he could, his hands wrapping tightly around her throat. She was screaming and struggling, helpless little legs and feet kicking madly against the hard metal of the lockers._

_The irony of the situation did not escape him. He had loathed high school, deciding it was some of his darkest years. He had been mocked for how strange he was perceived to be, how socially awkward he was...but worse than those days was the majority of the time, in which he remained invisible and no one noticed or talked to him. That was worse than all the taunts and jeers...he was so unimportant that he wasn't worth having his existence acknowledged. And then there were the cheerleaders...those pretty, pretty cheerleaders...always with bouncy, shining hair, sparkling eyes and teeth, those short skirts and nice legs..._

_But those had been bad thoughts. He tried to avoid the cheerleaders, sometimes for the bad thoughts it would give him, but mostly for the even worse thoughts that they would never notice him, never even recognize that they attended the same school together. He would never know companionship...never know the softness of a kiss...and he was so lonely. But he wasn't special like them, and he never would be. _

_Now a cheerleader was making him special...the poetic justice was beautiful._

_His solemn reflection of the moment was shattered when someone ran up and grabbed at his arm...it was the other girl, the one he would have let live...stupid girl...now she had to go too._

_It was her fault, he wanted her to live. He would have never pursued her...he hated hurting children; after all...it never felt right. It was sometimes necessary...when they had something he NEEDED so badly...but now he'd have to kill the other girl and he hadn't even needed anything from her. This angered him to no end, as he threw her away from him, using telekinesis to be certain that when her body slammed into those lockers and crumpled to the floor, she would never rise again._

_Now he was angry, the control of the situation seeming to have slipped a little from his grasp. And he hated losing control...and the special one was screaming...screaming and screaming...that needed to stop...he pushed his hand to encompass her mouth...she would bring attention to herself...and he only needed what SHE had...stupid, stupid girl..._

_He felt the want grow all the stronger within him...never to hurt...never to hurt...how could you never hurt? How did that work...he needed to know...needed to know...needed..._

_When his brain raced like this there was no way to calm it, no way to feed its curiosity. The only way to calm himself...to silence himself...to silence HER...was to cut._

_To cut and cut and cut and watch as the crimson stream rushed from her head...stained his hands a death red...yes, yes...it was oddly calming...because now he could understand. He could finally understand._

_But there was a commotion going on to the side of him, and it was distracting, disturbing the calm he was trying to harness in his need to know...he flashed his gaze to the side in an attempt to see what it was._

_The other girl...the non-important one, the non-special one. The just a girl, just a cheerleader, just an ordinary, everyday girl he had ignored almost the moment he had laid eyes on her. Because she was nothing, and he had been nothing too. He didn't like nothing._

_She was healing, bones he had broken being worked back into place, red gashes he had scarred her with quickly disappearing, her mangled right eye shifting back into place._

_She was healed. She couldn't get hurt._

_She was special...and he wanted it. Oh, he wanted it...more than ever now...this one he held in his hands was the nothing, the insignificant nothing. He had missed the special one, and the irony was even more beautiful than ever. Of course SHE would be special, the just a girl, just a cheerleader...she was so, so, so much more special than this bloody corpse he held in his hand. The girl he held was hurt and she would always hurt because she was nothing._

_He needed to be special._

_He dropped his first victim, his focus now solely on that special little girl. She was a pretty little girl, just as he remembered all the cheerleaders had been, and she held a quality of permeating innocence about her that his first victim had lacked. He liked that. It was better this way...little innocent, special girl..._

_He cast his first victim one last fleeting glance...she was dead, and she hadn't needed to die...a whisper of guilt tore at what he was sure was his already damned soul. But it had been her fault anyhow, trying to take credit for something she had clearly not done. Silly girl, of course she was not the special one, it seemed so obvious to him now._

_The strength and control of the situation was elating him once more, as he strode purposefully and powerfully towards that pretty, special one. She could run all she liked; she would never get too far from his grasp. He could walk as slowly as he liked, it only thrilled him further as she ran and cried out, for she had already lost and she and he both knew it._

_He turned the corner, intent to hunt down and follow her scared little trail...when he stopped walking suddenly._

_There was a man there...he was of a strong and sturdy build. He had thick brown hair that slipped in front of what appeared to be sharp, hazel eyes. He was dressed in a long coat too, but it was beige and he seemed made for the light. _

_The man was exuding something calming...something soothing...he had a quiet, gentle strength. And he held the innocent, special girl in his arms with all the chivalrous strength that Sylar had read about in his old stories of knights and gentlemanly heroes._

_They ran together, and Sylar watched, stone-faced. The young man was protecting her. He was like Superman, or Spiderman, but he was better because the young man was not special. He was just a man. He was Peter Parker saving Mary Jane, but not knowing he had any superpowers, not relying on the fact that he was anything more, anything greater, than just ordinary Peter Parker. Maybe just being Peter Parker was enough..._

_But it never was._

_And then something else intriguing happened. He watched them run, unmoving; knowing his special little girl still could not get too far...when the young man had stopped running. The young man was sure he had given the special little girl a good start, and now he had turned to stand his ground and face the den of lions...the giant, Goliath...the Egyptian pharaoh..._

_The monster._

_The young man was breathing heavily but he did not waver as he stood his ground, watching Sylar with sharp, intense hazel eyes. Sylar noted something else...the man was not fearless. He was afraid standing before Sylar. Sylar could practically hear the young man's heart pounding in his chest in terror, but he did not move._

_He was a hero...but he was nothing._

_It was not enough to be Daniel...David...Moses...without the power of God. It was not enough to be Hercules without the power of inhuman strength. It was not enough to be Odysseus without his cunning and intelligence. It was not enough to be Clark Kent without the power of his ancestors...it was not enough to be Peter Parker until he was bitten by that radioactive spider. It was not enough to be Gabriel and be a hero...he needed those powers...needed more and more just like all the heroes he had ever read about..._

_This young man had nothing...who was he? Who was he to stare in the face of someone so powerful, so special, and think HE was enough?_

_A different, powerful emotion rippled through Sylar. Jealousy...? He would kill this young man. He would show the young man...show him it is never enough to be a nothing and still be a hero...the young man would die for his presumptions._

_With only a mere thought, Sylar was able to send lockers flying at the young man. Although Sylar kept his face emotionless his insides flipped at the sight, the young man's fear had finally overtaken him...he was running now...dodging the lockers and running just as scared and frightened as all of Sylar's other victims had been._

_After all, he wasn't Spiderman. He was just Peter Parker._

_Sylar was almost disappointed..._

_Sylar quickened his pace, but was determined not to let the presence of this young man unnerve him. He was just a man, after all, just like all the other men he had killed. There was nothing special about him...the GIRL was the special one...he wanted her...he wanted to understand her..._

_She couldn't hurt._

_But the young man was still there, holding onto the special little girl as tightly as he could. Protecting her, enshrouding her in safety, shielding her from evil._

_From monsters._

_They ran up the steps together, the precious, special one still encircled in the young man's strong grasp. He wouldn't let her go, he wouldn't let her slip away and allow monsters to devour her...maybe he knew her, maybe he was a relative and loved her...or maybe he just protected innocent, little girls from monsters like Sylar..._

_Sylar was angry now...furious...the young man and special one were speaking to each other, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. A new feeling was overtaking him, and Sylar realized with sudden ferocity that he didn't care about that special, little girl at the moment. He'd catch her, she was small and defenseless, and she was just an innocent little creature with no way of protecting herself._

_No...his only focus now was on this young man. His purposeful strides were solely towards that young man...he wasn't sure if it was to kill him or to simply understand him...what made him so brave...? What made him so strong...? And if this was the beginning of some great, cosmic journey that Sylar was finding himself on...as it was often starting to feel during his quest for power...was this young man the hero of that journey?_

_If this young man was the hero...then Sylar was the villain._

_He didn't like that. He was never proud of what he did, was always guilt-riddled and crushed after his victories...had cried out to God for forgiveness hundreds of times...had prayed his rosary for absolution until the beads cut into his hands; he had been holding it so tightly._

_But he was never the villain... he was never the villain until he was opposed by a hero._

_The young man's shouts pulled Sylar from his desperate thoughts. "Go!" The young man urged, pointing to the path of salvation, urging the precious little thing to save herself. He was protectively asserting himself in front of her; he was still her savior in all ways possible. The special one hesitated, obviously reluctant to desert her shining knight, but the young man was resolute in his defense._

"_GO!" And this time it was a commanding order rather than a plea, and the special one had no choice but to obey. That had been unexpected, as he had been so gentle and calming in his ways that he had effectively hid that commanding power and strong authority. But his words were so cutting and forceful that the special one had fled, her soft, golden mane bouncing behind her. _

_The young man weakened though, as most heroes do, in the presence of an innocent, precious girl. Instead of turning to face and slay the monster, he watched the special one's retreating form with gentle, compassionate eyes...as if his intent gaze could force her to run any faster...to save her any more efficiently._

_Sylar was upon him before that young man could possibly realize his mistake...and when the young man turned to gaze upon Sylar's face, a strong wave of thrill mixed with anxiety nearly overpowered Sylar._

_The young man was scared again...he was gazing up in horror...for Sylar was authoritatively taller than him. That thrilled Sylar somewhat, being taller than this man was a display of masculine authority, one he had been granted naturally with his long stature. That was nothing he had stolen._

_But Sylar's anxiety remained as well, for although the young man was afraid...feeling as though he was looking up into the face of the apocalyptic Beast, no doubt...the young man still stood his ground and would not falter._

_He was that precious, little special one's hero, after all. And he could not fall from grace, could not dent his armor, and could not scrape off his shine. He had to be her hero. She was small and innocent and pretty and special, and he was the only one entrusted to keep her all of those things._

_The young man was a hero...and Sylar was a villain. Sylar was there to take the small, the innocent, the pretty, the special...and kill it. Kill all of it._

_The young man was scared, but he couldn't stop being strong and brave. That little, special one counted on him after all. And who counted on Sylar...who believed in Sylar...who kept Sylar strong and brave?_

_Sylar's anger was stronger and more violent than ever now, raging through him at the injustices that the universe constantly presented him._

_Gabriel was not special...could not be special...could not be brave or strong...and innocent, special girls never looked at him with such faith and determination to save them from the monsters that hid in the shadows._

_Because he was the monster._

_Hardly thinking now, his heart slamming wildly against his ribcage in violent anger, Sylar reached to grab the young man by the throat. To do what, he hardly knew, he knew he just wanted this young man to go away...to disappear...to stop being a hero so that Sylar could stop being a villain._

_But the young man would not go away...nor disappear...he grabbed Sylar by the shoulders and with a force Sylar hardly expected, the young man used both men's momentum to hurtle them from the top of the stairs to the ground many feet below._

_Sylar instinctively used his telekinesis to slow his fall...but his mind was still racing with uncontrolled thoughts...the young man was not special. The young man was a nothing. He would die from this fall...no one could survive it without being special...and yet he still willing took the plunge...for what? To protect that innocent, little, special one? Who was she, to die for? To throw yourself over the edge of the earth with a monster for? Knowing the monster may live while you went off to the Elysian Fields, just on some small chance that your damsel in distress, your Mary Jane Watson, would be saved from a monster's clutches?_

_All thoughts left Sylar, however, as he collided with the earth below. He had slowed his fall sufficiently to save his life, but it had happened too fast to keep the ground from knocking him unconscious. He didn't awake until several moments later, his body feeling stiff and the ground pressing into him in an unforgiving, painful manner._

_He was hurt...he had definitely hurt his leg. And there were sirens fast approaching...and the special one was long gone._

_Sylar cursed himself for losing his focus. The whole reason he had risked, and carefully planned, and stalked the grounds of this Texas High School to begin with was because he had wished never to hurt again. But now his body was wracked with pain both physical and mental. He had that innocent, little special one in his grasp and he had let her slip through his fingers. And why? For some no one, some nothing, some insignificant man that had stood in his way?_

_The young man never really posed any threat...it was all Sylar's pathetic romanticism of his own journey that distracted him...and NOW he would hurt, and he DID hurt, and he would CONTINUE to hurt...always...always...always..._

_Sylar tried to stand and he felt something broken and unmoving beneath him. He glanced down to see the young man. Broken, defeated, cold...dead._

"_There's the hero." Sylar murmured, pushing himself up onto his long legs...it hurt, one was particularly feeling as if it was in bad shape. "You're foolish...you aren't a hero. You're nothing...and now you're dead. And the girl will still die."_

_For the young man hadn't saved anything...not the cheerleader nor the world...but he had been strong and brave, if for a time._

"_You're different." Sylar conceded, and he pushed himself away, limping towards the shadows once more. The young man had been different, and Sylar was almost sorry that he had died like that. It was such an unbefitting death for such a brave man._

_But Sylar was also angry, and the young man had caused those feelings. Because of the young man, Sylar would still hurt. And he was so very tired of hurting._

_Sylar cast one more glance over his shoulder. The young man laid there, eyes open and glassy, body broken and twisted in a grotesque manner, thick, brown hair falling over his face in disarray, a pool of blood growing around him._

_It entered Sylar's mind to rearrange the young man's body...to put him in a less grotesque position...to move him so that he looked more at peace and less broken and twisted._

_But Sylar quickly pushed that thought aside. He was romanticizing the young man and who he was too much. He hadn't been a real hero...he wasn't truly Spiderman, after all..._

_He was only Peter Parker._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Soft lips caressed the corner of Gabriel's mouth, and for a moment he was in a panic, awaking from such a horrible, vivid dream to such tender administrations.

He released a loud gasp, his fingers fisting the sheets beneath him as his eyes flashed open. It took him a second to take in his surroundings, realizing that the soft lips belonged to his own Peter Parker..._Peter_.

Peter paused from his butterfly nips, his eyes clouding with concern as Gabriel pitched forward, uncertainly. Peter slipped a hand up Gabriel's face to slowly play with the older man's dark strands of hair. He grew a bit sheepish as he apologized, "Sorry...I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm leaving for work now, and I just was kissin' you goodbye..."

"It's okay." Gabriel nodded, a little too quickly. "I was just..." _He couldn't say he had been having a nightmare. Peter knew all of Gabriel's nightmares...knew THAT particular nightmare all too painfully well himself...maybe Peter had the very same dream during dark nights from the perspective of the brave hero...the brave hero terrified of the shadowy monster that continued to pursue him. _"...I was just surprised." He finished, hurriedly, his eyes darting down towards his slightly trembling hands.

Peter gave a slow nod, as if not fully believing Gabriel's words, however, he did not press him. Maybe Peter recognized that it was a terrible dream that was once again tormenting Gabriel...and maybe Peter would rather not hear about such nightmares any longer.

"Well, you have a good day, man." Peter gave Gabriel his sweet, half-smile, slapping the taller man on the arm appreciatively. He then pulled his pants up around his hips and began buckling his belt. "I love you."

Gabriel closed his eyes in frustration..._frustration at himself_..._why couldn't he just say that he loved Peter...why did he have such a horrible nightmare when everything in the waking world was so wonderful now...why did Peter keep insisting on vocalizing his love for Gabriel, making Gabriel feel guilty again and again..._

"You don't have to say that all the time!" Gabriel snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he felt the terrible words tumble out of his mouth before he could take any of them back.

Peter stared at him incredulously, reaching for his paramedic shirt to pull over his head and cover his bare chest. "Say what all the time?"

"That you love me." Gabriel hissed, and couldn't imagine _why _he would say such a thing, but the unsettling feelings of the nightmare seemed to be causing such discontent in him that he couldn't help it. He couldn't stand the _guilt _anymore...nightmares, those three, tender words...all of it. "You don't have to keep saying it...I _know_. I know you love me, Peter."

Peter blinked quickly, his smile fading as his face turned to stone. He seemed a little hurt, but he tightened his jaw in resolve not to show it. "O—okay. Okay." Peter blinked again, fisting his hands closed in uncertainty. Finally, his eyes darted back up to meet Gabriel's. "Well...I gotta get going." He nodded, before turning to leave the room.

The world seemed frozen to Gabriel as he watched Peter leave. Gabriel's dark eyes widened in disbelief..._why on earth would he tell Peter to stop saying those three little words...those three beautiful words..._and when he heard Peter's apartment door click shut, the weight of what Gabriel had just said fully sank into him. He fell back in frustration...his head hitting Peter's pillow with a _thud _in furious anger and disbelief at himself.

Gabriel loved hearing those words more than anything else. Whenever Peter spoke them, pleasant chills would rush through Gabriel and he could feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach as if he were some lovelorn teenager. He hadn't wanted Peter to stop saying those words just because _Gabriel_ couldn't say them Apparently, Gabriel was determined to make himself..._and Peter_...miserable.

His words hurt Peter, Gabriel clearly saw that. _And he had wanted so badly to stop hurting Peter_. In the past, Gabriel's words might've caused Peter to retort with equally hurtful words of his own. Gabriel was headstrong, after all, and so was Peter. Peter once jokingly told him that they were like two sides of the same coin. But it was true, and at times it caused a lot of fights in their early months together. While Gabriel's sarcastic mouth would get him into trouble, Peter's impulsive need to fire back with a determination not to be pushed around caused them endless arguments. Sometimes, in those very early days of their relationship, there would be moments when both would wonder if it was worth it. When both would wonder if what they were cultivating together could truly last.

But love and patience had won out against stubbornness and a need to be right. Peter started the change; he'd insisted that he wanted to speak with Gabriel about both of them beginning to make small sacrifices...to pick and choose their battles...to commit to each other as something lasting.

_Peter and him sat down one night, sitting across from each other, hands folded on their knees, heads bowed, and talked for hours...about Peter...about Gabriel...about them as a couple...about how they felt about each other...about what they needed from the other._

"_Sometimes...I'm just in a bad mood." Gabriel shrugged, his folded hands clenching tightly together as he spoke barely above a whisper. "And I need you to understand that."_

_Peter nodded, softly. "I need to let some things you say go, I know...I know you don't mean everything you say. But sometimes you have to be careful, you know...words hurt. Sometimes what you say can hurt me. Even if you're just in a bad mood."_

_Gabriel also nodded, he hated being scolded but he knew that was not Peter's intent for the night. "I...I'm trying, Peter. I still need your help."_

_Peter hesitated, his eyes watching Gabriel's face intently. Finally he reached a hand out and placed it firmly on Gabriel's knee. "Hey, I want this. I want you. We're gonna make this work. And I'm gonna help...I'm gonna help you."_

_There had been some tears after that, and some promises made on both sides, and the night had ended simply with both men hugging each other so tightly it appeared as if they would abhor to let go, whispering their affections and determination to make what they had together last._

Gabriel sighed, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair. Peter had kept his promise...he had let Gabriel's words go, assuming Gabriel was in some mood and would assure himself that Gabriel had meant no real harm. There would be no fighting, Peter would simply be the bigger man and let the words slide until Gabriel's mood passed. However, Gabriel hadn't kept _his _promise of not saying hurtful words to begin with, had he?

He felt like a child that had done wrong and then feels a thousand times guiltier when their parent remains understanding rather than angry. He hated feeling like a child..._hated when it was Peter who made him feel that way_...although it hadn't really been the younger man's fault.

None of this was Peter's fault, and a sickening feeling was beginning to settle in Gabriel's stomach. He seemed determined to destroy anything good in his life, to sabotage his own happiness. And for what reason? Because something worse could be lurking around the corner...because he didn't deserve any of this...couldn't have his happiness last?

Relationships were hard. Relationships were hard, and Gabriel was only making this one harder for reasons he could hardly begin to grapple with.

Gabriel wanted Peter. He wanted Peter ever since he could remember, he wanted Peter when it hadn't been right to want him, and he wanted Peter when he wasn't even sure Peter would ever look at him again without burning hatred and disgust.

Somehow, Peter had been merciful. Peter had been merciful when no one else..._not even God, Gabriel was certain_...had been able to grant him even a shred of the undeserving mercy that Peter had shown him. And then, after the mercy, there came the even less expected grace...Peter's love was granted to him.

Gabriel turned over on his side and grabbed the pillow so that it was pressed against his face, effectively shielding him from the room. He hated that he would still have those nightmares..._nightmares of the dark times_...he supposed it was only poetic justice at its best. Sylar was everyone else's nightmare for so long, it was only fitting that Sylar was _his _nightmare now. He wondered if the nightmares would ever fade. He could no longer tell Peter about his nightmares, somewhere between helping Gabriel recapture his goodness and getting into a relationship with him, Peter had stopped wanting to hear altogether about the past, about Sylar, about nightmares, about anything that could remind Peter that Gabriel was the man...the same man that killed his brother.

But Peter had forgiven him, Gabriel knew that. Peter never actually said the words, _I forgive you, _but then again, Gabriel hadn't said the words, _I love you_. But that didn't mean that he didn't _feel _them.

Gabriel knew he was forgiven. There had been a distinct change in Peter. Peter was allowing Gabriel to touch him, to get close to him; he no longer looked at Gabriel with eyes that would flash anger and confusion simultaneously. That look had long died out, about six months ago, and now he usually gazed upon Gabriel with only a soft, tenderness.

The fact that Peter had forgiven Gabriel hadn't _changed _anything that happened, of course..._nothing ever changes_...but somehow Peter could live with himself now. Gabriel was trying, trying very hard these days, to live with _himself_ but sometimes he wondered. Peter was a constant reminder..._to be good..._but also..._that he had once been bad_. And to Peter, Gabriel knew that he was a constant reminder. _Of the man he loved_...but also..._of the man he once hated._

Gabriel didn't know _why _he wanted so badly to tell Peter he had always loved him. Maybe it was because Peter was now separating their journey together into two different worlds: the Sylar time and then the Gabriel time. To Gabriel it was all the same: one free-flowing journey of a fall from grace, redemption, and discovery. And the only constant through all of the chaos and confusion was a love for Peter that never died, in fact, it had only grown stronger. It somehow proved to himself that Peter and he were _meant _to be together...somehow the universe kept putting them on the same path..._they were two sides of the same coin, after all_...and it justified the fact that all of this wouldn't go away. Peter would stay forever now.

He pulled the covers tightly over his head and released a heavy breath. He was content to stay in bed a little longer before getting up to meet the day. His bookstore didn't open until nine anyway, and it was only seven as of now. He felt like staying here all day, never to leave the warm comfort of Peter's bed.

Gabriel tightly shut his eyes, imagining how he could possibly tell Peter that he had always loved him. He had played this conversation out in his head, but somehow it always ended with Peter storming out of the house...but not before he had punched Gabriel in the face.

But now their first meeting was fresh in his mind, and Gabriel's mind was pressing him to continue the story. He knew it by heart, after all, and something deep within him needed to remember...needed to remember everything..._everything_...so that their confusing and often tumultuous relationship could somehow make sense now. Maybe he could think of a gentler way to explain it all to Peter someday..._a way that deemphasized the part where he cut Peter's head open and tried to steal his power_.

"Oh, Peter..." Gabriel moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt the small dampness that gathered in the corner of his eyes, pressing for release, but he refused to open his eyes and allow the tears to fall. Beautiful Peter..._always_ his beautiful Peter.

_He felt his body stiffen, hesitating, as the sound of footfalls echoed in his ears as if some intruder laid just around the corner. It interrupted him from his task at hand... desperately searching for that list...that list that called to his hunger like food to a starving man. The list that revealed to him who all the little special ones were. They would help him to calm the tempest of sensations that urged him to have more. He had to be the most special...if he wasn't...he was nothing. He was nothing...and he couldn't be nothing anymore...never again._

_Mohinder betrayed him. Mohinder betrayed him just as everyone else in his life always did. Lies had become so familiar to Sylar. Humanity, in its purest form, was a monstrous creation. The devil had surely won in his struggle with God for control of the species, because everyone that Sylar had cared for, believed in, or thought to finally be a cure for his eternal loneliness...turned out to be a liar and a betrayer. The older Dr. Suresh had certainly been both, why had Sylar ever believed this young Suresh would be any different...?_

_Mohinder had paid for his betrayal, of that Sylar had been sure. He had wanted to grant mercy to the young doctor, some perverse yet sincere offer of forgiveness and clemency. After all...isn't that what friends did for each other...? But Mohinder had thrown that back in Sylar's face; and Sylar had felt abused...and vulnerable...his mercy laughed at, his sincerity spat upon with complete disregard. Sylar decided to release his fury on the young doctor...it was Mohinder's fault after all. For at least one moment...one pathetic moment...Sylar wondered if the universe had allowed the young Suresh into Sylar's path in order to make up for his father's mistake...to befriend Sylar where Chandra Suresh had only deceived him._

_But it was not to be so, and now Mohinder would pay. The list did not lie...the list did not betray...the list only gave and gave and gave...only presented Sylar with the keys to unlock the secrets to everything he wished to know._

_Was there a power on the list that kept people from leaving him? That seemed to be the most elusive power of all._

_Sylar was a monster because of Chandra Suresh. Why should Chandra be viewed in such a positive light while Sylar was seen as a monster? Chandra had been the one to awaken this beast within Sylar's mind...certainly, Sylar had always been an angry young man...his temper always simmering beneath a tightly controlled surface...but he never wished to kill, to kill and to consume information with such ravish abandonment. No, not until the doctor unlocked Sylar's true potential and he finally saw that he had the means to be special all along._

_Sylar's task at hand would have to wait, the footfalls were growing louder and more insistent. Sylar paused as he had been preparing to inflict a small cut across the young doctor's throat ...he was intent on outwardly scarring Mohinder...one scar for all the murders that his father was responsible for Sylar committing._

_But someone was coming; no power was needed to hear them now._

_Sylar glanced towards Mohinder, a ghost of a smile now painting his previously emotionless face. "Looks like we have company." And with a mere flick of his hand, he watched as Mohinder flew to the ceiling, sprawled and beaten, his lip badly bloodied. Sylar gave a small smirk, relishing the power he now commanded over the situation. Sylar imagined Mohinder should spend his time up there reflecting upon how quickly tables can turn._

_Sylar bent the light around him in an attempt to stay hidden, curiously watching the door for just who the approaching visitor might be. During the time he spent with Mohinder, he hadn't observed the young man having any close friends or relatives in the States...perhaps it was someone...special...searching out the young doctor for help. That thought was particularly thrilling...he tried to tell himself to remain calm even as he felt his pulse race, the blood throbbing madly in his veins. If it was someone special seeking out help, than Sylar would be certain to give them what they desired._

"_Suresh?" The voice was low and husky, and Sylar squinted at the door with deep curiosity as it slowly began to push open. In Sylar's mad-ransacking of the doctor's makeshift laboratory, a chair had been pushed in front of the door, however, it was being moved aside as a shadowy figure began to enter the room. "Suresh?"_

_Sylar leaned forward, a slow burn churning in his gut now. The voice was vaguely familiar...the husky tones resounding in his sensitive ears...and when the light finally fell upon the intruder's face, Sylar felt as if all the air was snuffed from the room._

_Sylar physically felt time slow as he bit at the inside of his cheek to keep from vocalizing his shock; his eyes bored into the man standing in front of him. It felt as if some ghostly apparition had entered the room, and Sylar wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him._

_It was the young man from the Texas homecoming._

_But he was dead. Sylar had seen him lying in a pool of blood, his eyes dull and lifeless, his body growing stiff and cold. Sylar's victims had never come back from the grave before, and there was something chillingly wrong about this scenario._

_But there was no otherworldly explanation for this. The young man was real. Those eyes...bright and hazel and sharp as a blade...those eyes were real._

_Once again, Sylar's brain was working to put the pieces together, to explain the obvious as the young Lazarus walked further into the apartment room._

_This young man was special. He had always been special and Sylar should have realized it at the time. This young man had been so brave, so strong...he was special and he knew it...it was why he was able to stand toe to toe with the fire-breathing dragon and not even be singed during homecoming._

_Sylar gave an inward moan, here he had been crying out for the salvation that the list was to bring him, and the man who had thought to thwart him would now serve him in his collection. What was his power? Could he heal, like the pretty, little cheerleader? Whatever it was, Sylar was very eager to see how it worked._

_Sylar watched the young man continue to walk into the apartment, stepping carefully over fallen chairs and the destroyed IV that lay on the floor. Sylar quirked his head to the side, a smile ghosting his lips. Who was this young man...and what did he seek from Mohinder? _

_The young man was searching the apartment with an increasingly wary gaze, intensive, hazel eyes burning with growing discontent. "It's Peter Petrelli."_

_Peter Petrelli. It almost sounded surreal, like some comic book superhero, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that now Sylar knew. He knew the name of the hero that dared to oppose his villain._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: A BIG thank you to: Mars Death, Buffyxenaman, Mischa21, and JediGirl for reviewing this story! I really appreciate all of the comments and feedback! And thank you to everyone else who has been reading too! :)**

**Chapter 5**

"_It's Peter Petrelli."_

_The name Petrelli was a powerful one in the realm of New York politics. The Petrelli family had been influential and wealthy giants within the city for generations. Nathan Petrelli was running for congress in the upcoming fall election, as Sylar read about it in the newspaper. Nathan was also was possibly special; his name was in a news article that Sylar had saved detailing his survival in what could have been a fatal car crash. This Peter wasn't dressed like a powerful man, but he carried himself like one. People could change their appearances all they liked, but the way one carried oneself was much more difficult._

_This all made sense now, Peter was like a Bruce Wayne, no doubt, powerful and rich and yet still needing to be a hero...still needing more...hungering for more..._

_Peter was obviously becoming more and more disturbed by the state of disarray he found in the small apartment room. "Mohinder?" He called, warily peering into Mohinder's study. Chairs and desks were overturned and much of the doctor's instruments were broken._

_Peter kept his trek throughout the room, looking around uncertainly for signs of trouble. He stopped as he saw a map hanging on the wall...the map of all the special ones that cried out to Sylar...and squinted his eyes at it in curiosity. He had walked just beneath Mohinder now but was still unaware of the doctor's presence. Sylar darted his eyes up towards the young Suresh and noted how Mohinder's breathing had quickened. Sylar pursed his lips tightly...watching this play out was much more intriguing then interrupting at the moment...there was a perverse delight in seeing Mohinder sprawled just above Peter's head, helpless in both escaping or warding off the young man from venturing into the spider's web._

_Sylar was nearly salivating now...he could practically smell Peter's power; the scent overpowering him with want and need. God, he wanted Peter's power; wanted Peter's blood smeared on his hands as he devoured it readily._

_Peter suddenly flinched, reaching a hand up to gently touch the top of his head. When he pulled his hand back down to examine it, both Sylar and Peter realized what had happened; Sylar watched intently as Peter's sharp, hazel eyes widened in horror as he saw the fresh blood staining his fingers. Mohinder was bleeding on him from the ceiling... heavy drops of red now falling on Peter's face and just above his eye._

_Peter tried quickly to brush the offending substance off of his face, clearly in a panic. He swung his head up to see Mohinder trapped on the ceiling; his sharp eyes filling with horror from the gruesome realization. _

"_Sylar." Mohinder rasped, breaking the hushed silence of the room._

_Sylar knew it was time to reveal himself, to show Peter that destiny was a cruel master. The young man had inexplicably escaped Sylar once, but now fate had given Sylar a second chance to collect one of the lost lambs that had escaped his growing flock._

_Peter turned around quickly to heed the doctor's warning, but Sylar had already decided upon his course of action._

_Peter Petrelli was a gift. A special gift meant for Sylar to unwrap...to unwrap his skull and see what special present lay inside._

"_I remember you." Sylar murmured, and he chose to draw upon a power that would give his voice a satanic chill. He had so enjoyed displaying masculine dominance over Peter in the past...he still thrilled at the memory of towering over the young man as Peter recoiled in fear...yes, it seemed very appropriate to call upon this particular power now._

_Without hesitation, Sylar threw Peter up against the wall with telekinesis, making sure to spread the young man's arms on either side of him as one would a captive. He was pinned helplessly against the wall; completely at Sylar's mercy...too bad for him Sylar had already granted his share of mercy today towards Mohinder._

_Sylar quickly strode up to Peter and grabbed him forcefully by the chin. Peter was breathing very heavily, his chest rising and falling with rapid succession. Sylar was a bit pleased with himself...the man was truly frightened...Peter was definitely evoking less bravado now that a pretty, little girl was not here needing his protection. That was usually the case with most men._

"_You're like me, aren't you?" Sylar wondered, and he began to roughly turn Peter's head from side to side, trying to get as good a look at the man as he could. He was just as Sylar had remembered him at homecoming: dark, thick brown hair falling messily in front of bright, hazel eyes. Strong and sturdy, lean muscle and broad shoulders...his whole body quivered beneath Sylar's administrations. It was all still tantalizingly intriguing...how had Peter survived that fall? Sylar needed to know, needed to solve the riddle. "I'd like to see how that works."_

_Sylar watched, a morbid satisfaction warming his chest, as Peter's eyes continued to fill with fear. Sylar scoffed slightly in his mind, the young man's entire body was trembling he was so frightened. His cold, clammy face shook as Sylar tried to keep a firm grip on the young man's chin. Here the mighty hero stood now...shaking and giving breathy, timid gasps...it was pathetic and Sylar did not wish to look upon the sad sight any longer...it was time to calm his mind and cut...cut...cut...see blood...blood...blood...and know...know...know..._

_Yes, yes...it felt so good. So natural. So right. How could something that felt so good at the time cause him so much anguish upon reflection? It was an evolutionary imperative, after all. Sylar was cutting...and the blood was bursting forth from the deep gash spreading across Peter's head...and now Peter Petrelli would be a part of him forever, just like the others. Whatever had made Peter Petrelli special would now make Sylar special...and Peter Petrelli had indeed been something special. For at least one night, he had been a hero...Sylar liked the thought that he would have that part of Peter inside of him forever._

_Yes, Sylar would remember Peter that way. The way Peter had seemed during homecoming, like some brave knight upon his white horse, some new and daring breed of superhero, a defender of the innocent...Sylar would not remember him as he was now. Not like this, screaming so loud it hurt Sylar's ears. All the screaming was slightly unnerving Sylar...none of the others had screamed quite as loudly or with such raw emotion. The young man's jaw was working furiously, and Sylar noticed that there was something different about his lips...something different about the way the dark cries would trembled past them. _

_Sylar tried to regain his focus as his finger sliced across the thick, dark piece of hair that kept falling in front of Peter's face, covering those sharp eyes. The lock fell to the floor, and it was at that moment that Sylar finally got to see the full intensity of Peter's once hidden gaze. It made him seem older...darker...less innocent somehow...and a new look had entered his eyes...and he was no longer screaming...instead he just appeared to be very focused._

_Focused on what made him so special. Sylar's dark, brown eyes widened in shock as the terrible wound slashing across Peter's forehead was beginning to close back up. Peter was still trembling, but even as the blood continued to stain his damp forehead, the deep gash was slowly mending together as if nothing had hurt him at all. He was healed...and Sylar could not touch him._

_Sylar's lips slowly parted in confusion as his eyes narrowed. He felt his hand begin to drop to his side, almost as if the room were starting to move in slow motion once more. He was at a slight loss as to what to do next, his usual means of understanding unexplainably thwarted._

_Peter Petrelli...he was different than the others._

_Sylar had no time to dwell on this, however, as Peter powerfully and defiantly threw Sylar across the room with telekinesis of his own. He hadn't escaped Sylar's hold on him...he was still quite trapped against the wall...but he had overpowered Sylar in a small window of opportunity. Sylar felt his body smash against the opposite wall, his lungs constricting as air was forced out of them, his last conscious sight was Peter glaring at him in ruthless determination._

_Peter would pay for that...Sylar wasn't sure how he was doing this; acting like a magician pulling tricks out of his hat, but Sylar would soon understand._

_The room blackened for only a brief moment, as Sylar heard Mohinder and Peter both fall to the floor. Mohinder's crash was a loud thump on his stomach but Peter fell on his feet like a cat, poised and ready for Sylar's awakening._

_Sylar opened his eyes quickly, a surge of anger bubbling up within him. He watched as Mohinder and Peter exchanged a small glance, Mohinder was clearly nervous but Peter's gaze seemed to be solely for appraising Mohinder's condition, being certain that the young doctor was alright from his fall before turning to face the monster once more._

_So the hero in Peter was clearly resurging...how irritating. Sylar knew not yet who this Peter truly was, but one thing was certain. He was a fool. Foolish man, how did he scream and tremble one moment...then bravely turn to face his death the next?_

_Perhaps because Peter couldn't die...and Sylar could never kill him._

_Maybe he would always be the hero...and Sylar would always be the villain, for there was no way to be rid of this Peter...no way to make him stand down...to get him to just disappear._

_Peter Petrelli slowly rose to his feet to face Sylar once more and Sylar tried to make his face like stone in response. This Peter would know none of Sylar's vulnerabilities...for indeed, Sylar may have finally met a man worthy enough to be his equal, and Sylar had to cling to his mask all the tighter...if he wished Peter to view him as an equal as well._

"_Oh, no." Sylar whispered, and his voice captured all the confidence and harshness he had wished it to. He darted his eyes towards Mohinder, still lying on the floor, as he snapped, "I'm not done with him yet!"_

_Sylar took several slow, stalking steps towards Peter in hopes that the man may begin to tremble once more...for Sylar could readily feel his own insides tremble. His stomach panged with anxiety as Peter began to slowly disappear right in front of his eyes, as if Peter had truly been nothing more than the fabrication of an insane man's tortured mind._

_Sylar stopped in his tracks, turning to the right, his temper blazing with vicious intensity in his chest now. This was starting to spin out of his control...and he so very much needed to be in control. When things were out of his control he felt lost...and scared...and small...like when he was a child and his mother would fall into one of her strange fits._

"_Interesting, I can't wait to try that one." Sylar announced, loudly, trying desperately to feign confidence for Peter. Inside he was shaken, but Peter and Mohinder should never know that...Sylar was the powerful one, after all. Nothing scared him._

_Sylar quickly appraised the room, searching for anything with which one could catch an invisible man. The glass shards he had left on the ground in his previous mad rage caught his eye. If one happened to stick into soft flesh...if crimson blood happened to pool on the floor wherever Peter stood...that would be enough to make him visible. With calm clarity, Sylar began to raise the glass with one outstretched hand. It was called to him slowly like damned souls rising out of the earth at the devil's command. Mohinder was staring at him in absolute horror, but that only served to vindicate Sylar's actions further. His eyes scanned the room for signs of Peter...come out, come out..._

_With a flick of his hand...a mere thought, that's really all it took...the glass shards sliced through the air like daggers. Mohinder threw his head down in a desperate attempt to save his life, but the cutting glass was not meant for him._

_The glass was meant for finding Peter...but Sylar was unsure if it was to kill or to capture the young man._

_Because when one of the glass shards finally stuck...and when Peter Petrelli's body reappeared, the glint of the glass piercing through the back of his skull...Sylar was almost certain that the young man was not truly dead. _

_Sylar's eyes widened as Peter slumped to the floor. The tall, young man cocked his head to the side, curiosity now surging through his body and culminating in his chest, as it was becoming more difficult to breathe normally. Peter was not dead...was he? If so, the hero had finally fallen...the villain role abdicated. But Peter was different...special...and Sylar did not yet know how he worked. Peter was a curious plaything...like a model ship trapped in a bottle...and Sylar wanted to know how all the parts had fit together or how they had come to be in the bottle originally._

_Sylar was almost child-like in his wonder, giving the faintest of smiles as he approached the fallen hero. He began to bend down...intent to reach out and touch Peter's soft, thick locks with his fingers...to see if Peter's warm body stirred beneath Sylar's large hands. However, at that moment, a loud commotion sounded from behind him._

_He turned, berating himself for not being more aware, he had left Mohinder unwatched to betray him once more. The doctor pushed a heavy chalkboard towards Sylar...slamming into him...throwing his head against the wall._

_His last thoughts plagued him...the list...he had not gotten the list yet...and Peter Petrelli...Sylar still didn't know how that worked._

_With that, he fell into an unconscious slumber. By the time he had awoken, Mohinder and Peter were both gone...only small traces of Peter's crimson blood remained, small droplets pooling on the floorboards._

_Rage bubbled up in Sylar's chest. The list was gone, the computer that held it destroyed, and white, angry light burned in Sylar's eyes as he grabbed a wood plank and beat against the remains of the computer in bitter frustration and agony. How would he ever be sated now; his mind already pained from the thought._

_Then, a small piece of paper caught his eye. He picked it up, curiously, the name flashing before him. Isaac Mendez. He was special too...and Sylar knew how to find him now. Perhaps all hope was not lost yet._

_He paid Isaac Mendez a visit. The man could paint the future, and had known of Sylar's coming. This unnerved Sylar, but he tried desperately to hang onto his mask of confidence and poise, Peter's reappearance having already shaken that enough. Isaac faced the future without fear; and Sylar wished to feel that way too. So he cut Isaac open and looked into his mind and then Isaac was a part of Sylar too, his soul trapped in the sarcophagus of Sylar's brain should the tall, young man ever need to call upon him._

_It was later that night as Sylar stood; paintbrush poised in contemplation, in Isaac's loft. More than anything Sylar wished to understand the future...for nothing scared him more than the unknown...the constant changing...the unpredictability._

_He figured out how Isaac's power had worked easily enough and he was now preparing himself for the moment he allowed his own mind to execute it. But as he stood upon the brink of time, thoughts of Peter Petrelli kept whispering unwelcomingly into his consciousness._

_He still didn't understand how Peter worked._

_He wanted so desperately to understand. What made Peter so brave, so foolish, so strong, so stupid, so filled with raw intensity, so self-righteous, so annoying._

_And suddenly just having Peter's power wasn't enough. Sylar wanted to know how all of Peter worked...every single part of his being...not just what made him special. Sylar wanted to find what made every inch of Peter's mind tick, wanted to understand what the man was thinking when he foolishly stood on unwavering feet, so determined that he was in the right, so self-satisfied with his role as hero._

_What made Peter think he was the hero? The line between good and evil...right and wrong...an evolutionary imperative and murder...was often so blurred it was impossible to decipher. But Peter thought he was the hero, Sylar had been plainly able to read that in the young man's eyes._

_His eyes. Sharp...intense...hazel eyes. They had burned into Sylar once Sylar was able to see them properly, once he had sheared Peter; like Delilah cutting Samson's hair._

_Those eyes on vivid display had seemed to make all the difference somehow. Almost as if Peter had lost something tonight and it had been robbed of him by Sylar. Being a hero was not all Peter's childish boyhood dreams had probably made it appear to him. He had grown up tonight, and saw that reality was harsh and violent, and that violence was real and painful, not simply like what one would see drawn in a comic book._

_Sylar had effectively raped Peter of his innocence._

_Sylar gave a loud snort, he was glad Peter was no longer the wide-eyed, innocent boy Sylar had met during the Texas homecoming. Maybe if Peter was still alive, he would now realize how silly it was to try and play the hero...maybe he would stop needlessly throwing himself into every situation that Sylar was trying to control. Maybe Peter would stop trying to prove that he wasn't just like every other human on this planet...fallen and full of sin._

_Sylar desperately hoped that Peter was gone for good now. He didn't need to see Peter anymore...Peter was only making Sylar hungrier. First, Peter had stolen away the pretty cheerleader...and now he had stolen the list. Sylar didn't need to see him anymore, didn't need to see Peter frightened and trembling...or brave and unwavering...or his lips._

_His lips. It had been the very first time Sylar had noticed Peter's lips. They had struck him merely as different, and Sylar had tried to recall what it was about them that made him feel that way. There was something...flawed about them. Imperfect, that was the word...but somehow that had made them all the more striking in their perfection...such a curious thought._

_Full lips, trembling and crying out. Lips that bled emotion._

_He wanted Peter Petrelli. Peter was the most special, Peter was the most different. Sylar wanted to watch Peter die even as he burned for Peter to live. Sylar wished for Peter to disappear even as he hoped for the possibility that Peter would reenter his life._

_Sylar felt a small chill enter the room, as he tried to grip the paintbrush with more authority than he had been previously. He prepared himself to paint... and was it so wrong to wonder if Peter Petrelli might once again be on the same path that Sylar was walking...?_

_Perhaps the painting would reveal that...perhaps it would show Sylar finally taking Peter for himself once and for all...finally knowing how all the pieces fit together._

_Or maybe it would show Peter escaping from Sylar once more, making Sylar's stomach pang with an even deeper hunger._

_But then again, maybe Peter was truly dead now; the glass shard had hit its mark._

_And maybe Sylar didn't want to see any of this...know any of this...maybe Sylar wanted a Peter in the universe...but then again, what if he didn't...the future was such a terrible thing._

_He wanted Peter Petrelli. And some strange and frightening voice inside of himself was wishing for this painting to show him a future where Peter still lived...so that Sylar could finally understand how it all worked. He wasn't even sure it was only a power he sought from Peter now; he just knew he was confused and miserable and it was all Peter's fault._

_Peter's fault Sylar was so nervous to know the future._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was around eight in the morning by the time Gabriel pulled himself out of bed, still feeling a bit confused and morose from the unpleasant mix of snapping at Peter and the old, haunting memories. After all, everything was going well between Gabriel and Peter..._and he shouldn't be worrying needlessly about the past any longer, should he?_

Gabriel walked into Peter's kitchen as he began buttoning up his shirt. He imagined it might be time to return to his own apartment this evening. He had visited Peter's almost every day this week and Gabriel's apartment most likely needed tending..._and it would also give Gabriel the time he needed to clear his head._

Gabriel finished with the last of the buttons on his shirt, as something caught his attention on the countertop. It was a small, brown paper bag that was rolled up at the top. On the paper bag it read, _For Gabriel. It's gonna be a good day. _ The words were written in a messy scrawl and there was a little smiley face at the bottom of the bag.

Gabriel's felt a smile tug at his lips, despite himself. He unrolled the bag and peered into it. There was a hastily made peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a Hostess chocolate snack cake in its plastic wrapping. The peanut butter and jelly was so messily spread that Peter must have made Gabriel the sandwich as a last minute decision when the young man had hurried off to work. It was no doubt a small peace offering after Gabriel's harsh words towards Peter that morning, and the fact that Peter had thought to do it while he had been in a rush to get to his shift in time touched Gabriel. _Peter_..._oh, Gabriel loved him so much_.

Gabriel shook his head and gave a breathy laugh, telling himself to stop dwelling on the past for the remainder of the day. Peter had always said after all, the past should be left in the past. The most important time anyone had was the present. And no one should know better about such subjects than Peter..._and Peter loved him in the present_.

Thinking about the night of the Texas homecoming...or the second time he had met Peter in Mohinder's apartment..._or when he and Peter had almost decimated New York_...did him no good now. It was time to get to work..._and take each day one day at a time_...just as Peter had always told him.

Gabriel couldn't help his cheerier mood as he headed off to work, the paper bag tucked in one hand, a smile now refusing to leave his face.

Work passed quickly that day and Gabriel found himself no longer dwelling on silly nightmares..._they were only nightmares after all, what he and Peter had was real_...and what did it matter if he couldn't say _I love you_? Peter understood him. Peter always understood him; Gabriel needn't worry about that, the packed lunch proof enough that Peter _knew _exactly what Gabriel meant even when the taller man's words contradicted his feelings.

The day that followed at his bookstore was rather slow, only a total of six people entered the whole day and he only sold a total of three books. Despite the slow business, however, Gabriel refused to allow his spirits to be dampened. After all..._It was going to be a good day_...Peter had promised him so and Gabriel always believed all of Peter's promises.

_He always did._

Gabriel had enjoyed his sandwich during his lunch hour..._for some reason, today the peanut butter and jelly tasted extra delicious..._and he was considering once again returning to Peter's apartment after work ended. After all, his apartment was so small and lonely..._and while Peter's apartment was small, it definitely was not lonely_...and he needed to thank Peter for the packed lunch, didn't he?

It was with that reasoning that Gabriel decided to board the bus that headed for Peter's apartment after Gabriel had locked up the bookstore for the day.

Peter's shift would end earlier than usual today since he had worked double shifts all last week. This thought pleased Gabriel; he imagined the nice, quiet evening Peter and he could have together. Gabriel could read his book..._as Peter laid on the couch, reading the newspaper_...and they could talk about their day, and Gabriel would listen intently as Peter recounted his stories about what happened at the hospital today..._about what a hero Peter had been, saving so many lives...Gabriel loved hearing those stories_.

Gabriel peered out the window as the bus neared Peter's apartment. He swiped at some perspiration that had gathered on his forehead, wondering if he should pick up a carton of ice cream for himself and Peter that night, the summer heat beginning to last long into the evenings more and more frequently.

Gabriel checked his watch as he stepped down the bus steps. He rounded the corner and headed for the small 7-11 near Peter's apartment, intending to surprise the young man with the frozen treat. Gabriel wondered what kind of ice cream Peter would like the best..._vanilla was a classic, but chocolate was so good...Gabriel really liked chocolate...with sprinkles..._

Gabriel entered the 7-11, immediately heading towards the dessert aisle. He gave a quick nod towards the clerk at the counter, a short Middle-Eastern woman with rather large brown eyes. He walked down the ice cream aisle, pursuing the different flavors with interest. _Maybe he should deviate from the classical choices tonight...he wondered how Cake Batter Ice Cream tasted..._but he also knew that Peter usually enjoyed the simpler flavors. In that case, he would probably settle on plain vanilla, but he also picked up a bottle of chocolate syrup and a box of sprinkles. He was already salivating at the thought of it all, and hoped Peter was not intent on having too big of a dinner..._Gabriel always liked to go straight for dessert._

Gabriel walked up to the counter to pay the clerk. He gave the girl a quick smile, even though she simply stared at him with eyes that told him she was more than ready to close up shop. Gabriel's fingers gently rapped the counter, his eyes eagerly watching her hands as she rang the ice cream up.

_He needed to follow Ted. His hands moved across the canvas, painting a picture of the future that was clear; explicit: Sylar was to explode and kill thousands as he decimated New York City. Why he would do such a terrible thing had been lost on him before...after all; he had never killed without purpose...the blood that always stained his hands was never in vain...he had needed_..._coveted__...his neighbor's goods. But not now. This was...different...he didn't need anything from the thousands that stood to die now. _

_But then he saw what a monster he was in the eyes of the one person who was supposed to love him unconditionally...his own mother...and now he understood why he must destroy New York. He was supposed to be special, was he not? If that meant his name going down in history as a mass murderer in one, all-terrifying cataclysmic event then so be it._

_And he steeled himself as he walked the crowded streets of New York, searching for the explosive man, even as unwelcome thoughts whispered deep down in his subconscious...like how those scissors found their way into his mother's heart...but no, that didn't matter._

_Nothing really mattered anymore._

_The painting...the power...told him this tragedy was to happen. He was to die, but his name was to live on. It hadn't been how he was expecting he would be special, but nonetheless, he would be special. The future was set in stone. He had a role to play, just like everyone else in the upcoming events._

_Just like Ted had a role to play._

_The man had been a little difficult to track down, but Sylar was able to do so. He remembered seeing a Ted Sprague on the list...his power was the ability to emit radiation from his body. And the painting had clearly shown his face, clearly shown a man with glowing hands. Sylar had then spent his time tracking down Ted...like a lone wolf descending upon his prey...and he only wished to help Ted understand what Ted's role would be in satisfying destiny._

_Sylar would take Ted's power and then whatever Ted could do, Sylar could do. And Sylar would use it...die with it...be special forever with it. And although the death of martyrs had often inspired him as a boy when he would read books of saintly heroes... and indeed, sometimes he had imagined himself dying for his impenetrable faith...he hardly knew if dying now caused him pleasure or pain. He supposed it didn't matter._

_Nothing really mattered anymore. He would die for his faith, but it was a faith in the unseen hand of Fate rather than the God who had forsaken him. Destiny had spoken through the painting, and destiny wished for New York to explode, and like a chosen prophet he would proclaim this message to the world. Everyone had been given a role in the upcoming disaster...and Sylar...why, he had been given the most special role of them all._

_When he finally saw Ted, he felt his chest roar with want. He wanted to know how Ted worked, but more than that he wanted to play his part on the future's grand stage as soon as possible...he wanted the world to know that he was special and soon. If he was being honest, he'd also realize that he simply __hurt____too much to do anything else but follow abstract ideas presented to him on paint canvases...but being honest was highly overrated. To remember his mother...to ask why those scissors had found their way into her heart...it was better to bury questions like that and ask far different questions...like what would be the most opportune moment to slice deeply into Ted's head and bathe his hands in Ted's blood..._

_Sylar narrowed his eyes as he peered around the corner he had been hiding. There were more people than Ted present. Noah Bennet and his daughter...Claire, the special little cheerleader...were also with Ted. So was the officer who had been tracking Sylar down during Sylar's early shadow days...Officer Parkman. And another man was there as well..._

_NO! Peter Petrelli!_

_Sylar scoffed in disbelief. It was as if the universe had stockpiled all the people he despised in one place. They all surrounded Ted, as if protecting him from Sylar's clutches, and Sylar was beginning to feel a burning rage towards all of them...but especially to one man in particular._

_Peter Petrelli. He kept showing up, thinking he was some big hero, thinking he could stop Sylar from answering the future's call...from being special...why couldn't Peter Petrelli just go away. Neither man had been seeking out the other, why did Peter keep appearing at every turn since that fateful night of homecoming, as if determined to spoil Sylar's plans even when Peter was not aware that Sylar was standing only feet from him, watching him intently._

_Peter Petrelli. Sylar was so sick of this man appearing in his life. Peter and his need to be a hero...didn't he realize that nothing really mattered?_

_The future can't be fought. Nothing can ever change. All Sylar's mad, hungering wants...all of his hunting...all of his stalking...all of his preying...all of his victims had meant nothing in the end. Sylar was just going to explode and all the powers of the little souls he held within him would simply vanish when he did._

_Sylar was to blow up New York and be remembered forever...and hated forever...and never loved forever...and special forever...and Peter Petrelli just needed to accept that. Because nothing really mattered anymore, and Peter needed to see that...be forced to see it...just as much as Sylar was forced to see it._

_Nothing really mattered anymore but being __special__...he hurt...and nothing mattered._

_And Peter just needed to get out of Sylar's way unless he wanted to get hurt too._

Gabriel shouldered his paper bag as he headed down the street towards Peter's apartment building. He grinned, knowing that Peter would appreciate the taller man's thoughtful gesture of going to the store and getting ice cream for both of them..._maybe he could even convince Peter to forgo dinner altogether, or at least eat the ice cream first._

Gabriel placed a hand in his pocket and fumbled with his key. He cast another glance at his watch. Peter had to be home by now, and he would be surprised to see Gabriel come over so soon as well. Gabriel hoped it was a pleasant surprise..._he hoped Peter didn't wish for a quiet evening alone..._but Gabriel could also be quiet if that's what Peter needed tonight.

As Gabriel walked up the stairs to Peter's apartment room, he moved to the next key on the keychain Peter had given him. He hurried up the stairs; taking in a couple extra breaths, as he unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder.

Peter was home as Gabriel expected, standing by the coffee pot, juggling a coffee cup in one hand and pressing the telephone up against his ear. Gabriel immediately quieted his motions of closing the door and entering the room, not wishing to disturb Peter's phone call.

"Yeah, I wanna see you too. I've just been really busy, that's all. You know that." Peter gave a slight nod to Gabriel, but Gabriel could see the anxiety clearly painted in the young man's face. "Yeah, I know I work too hard. I love you too. Hey, I'm gonna see you soon, I promise. Okay. Bye, bye, Ma."

Gabriel felt a pang of unease hit him at Peter's parting words. Was it Gabriel's fault that Peter had not seen his mother, Angela in so long? After all, how could Angela come over to the apartment when Gabriel was always here..._and she still hated him so much..._ it made him feel guilty..._Peter would rather spend time with Gabriel than his own mother...it was thrilling, exciting...it proved Peter was __his__..._so guilty.

Gabriel shook his head quickly, trying to clear his thoughts. "Hi, Peter. I...I got us ice cream. Vanilla. I know you like...simplicity."

_The irony of Gabriel's words were not lost on him._

Peter ran a hand through his thick, brown hair; his eyes still fixed uncertainly on the telephone he held in his hand. He blinked several times..._he did this when he was trying to bury his anxieties_...before lifting his gaze to meet Gabriel's. "Oh, thanks, Gabriel. Here, lemme take that from you, I'll put it in the freezer."

Peter took the paper bag from Gabriel's extended hands, flashing him a bright half-smile..._as if Peter had no problems in the world...Peter never visited his burdens on the shoulders of others...but Gabriel knew that sometimes Peter's shoulders got very tired._

"Thank you for packing me lunch today, Peter." Gabriel offered sincerely, returning Peter's smile. "I really enjoyed it."

"No problem, man." Peter closed the freezer door and walked over to place the phone back on its hook. "How was work?"

"Very slow. How about you?"

"Uneventful. I mostly filled out paperwork I had backed up." Peter approached Gabriel, his hands now shoved into his pockets as a shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His body language told Gabriel he had a surprise..._Peter was terrible at keeping secrets..._but such thoughts were driven from Gabriel's mind as Peter gently placed his hands on the other man's strong shoulders and leaned in to press his lips firmly against Gabriel's.

Gabriel felt his eyes slip closed in appreciation as Peter continued to softly taste his lips in feathery, but hot and purposeful, kisses before slowly pulling away.

"I wanna spend the night with you." Peter murmured, his nose giving Gabriel's a quick nuzzle. "I've been so busy at the hospital..."

Gabriel sucked in a deep breath, giving a heated grunt as he brought up his hands to fist into Peter's thick, brown hair. _Mmmm..._it was so thick...so silky...

Peter turned his head slightly to avoid Gabriel's heated lips from crashing back down into his own. Peter gave a small shake of his head. "I meant we're gonna spend _time _together. I don't think I've been leaving you wanting _that _very recently, if you'll remember last night."

Gabriel gave a breathy laugh, bringing a finger up to drag across the rough stubble on Peter's chin. He squinted his eyes softly as he growled darkly, "I'm always wanting, Peter."

Gabriel was pleased by the light shiver he felt ripple through Peter's body. _Peter was always wanting too_...but instead, Peter simply gave him an impish grin. "We're going to the movies, alright? The matinee showings are right now."

"Oh, I see. You want to make out in the back row all night." Gabriel gave the other man a wicked smile, but allowed Peter to slip out from his grasp. "What am I going to do with you, Peter? You used to be such a good boy and now you're so corrupted."

"Yeah, who corrupted me?" Peter shot back, good-naturedly.

_Gabriel saw by Peter's small glance to the floor that Peter wondered if he should have made such a comment, even in fun, but Gabriel was glad that he did. It meant that Peter was no longer trying to toe a line with him...it was a good thing...he hoped Peter would fully realize that too someday._

"You corrupted _me_, Peter." Gabriel smiled, relieved to hear a small laugh escape Peter's lips. Gabriel watched closely, as Peter walked to his bedroom to change his clothes, pulling his paramedic shirt up over his head as he went, leaving the lean muscles of his back on display. Gabriel leaned back against the countertop and called to him, "Here we are, going to the movies and you're trying to seduce me."

"Me? You're the one comin' over to my place with ice cream, trying to bribe me." Peter smiled, and Gabriel watched him search through his dresser for a clean shirt.

"True." Gabriel gave a slight nod of his head in concession. Then his voice turning teasing he added, "Can you blame me? You're quite an attractive young man."

"So I've been told." Peter now had a very cocky smile slipping across his face; pulling a clean shirt over his head as he exited his bedroom.

Gabriel gave a loud snort, as Peter moved towards where Gabriel leaned against the counter. _Peter was cute and knew it...it was the worst. _Peter gave a rough laugh, leaning his arms against the countertop on either side of Gabriel's long form..._his chest and hips giving meaningful pressure against Gabriel's lean body._

"You're not as cute as you think you are, Peter..." Gabriel teased in mocking indignation, welcoming the soft lips that reached up to warmly push against his. He allowed Peter to deliver another punishing kiss to his lips, dragging his mouth down to softly caress the taller man's jaw line. Gabriel reached out to grab onto Peter's hips, but the young man straightened up out of his grasp with that infuriating grin still painted on his face.

"Aww, _really_?" Peter replied, squinting his eyes in mock disbelief before flashing a playful half-smile. Then he tapped Gabriel on the elbow. "C'mon, let's get going."

Gabriel laughed, as warmth seemed to rush through his whole body from his head to his toes. He followed Peter out the door, closing it behind them. Peter was the only thing on earth that could distract him from a freshly bought carton of ice cream, he thought with a dry smile.

_Heroes are often placed on very high pedestals. These pedestals can be so high, that should a hero happen to misstep and fall, the resulting plummet will surely break the heroes' neck; or at least permanently damage the heroes' wings...the hero will surely never fly again._

_Peter Petrelli should have stayed away. He was placing himself on a very high pedestal now...and Claire was also placing him up there...and all the others Sylar despised were placing him up there. Yes, his pedestal had become very lofty. _

_Peter was about to fall though and Sylar was preparing to be the one to push him. Everything made sense once more, and everything was beginning to fit together like springs in an old, broken clock. Sylar could practically hear the ticking resounding in his mind. The puzzle that was filled with jumbled pieces was finally rearranging itself to form a perfect picture._

_Ted was not the only one with the capability of being a ticking time-bomb...Sylar finally understood how Peter's power worked. The young man's ability was absorbing the powers of other special ones...without killing...without a guilty conscious repeatedly stabbing at his soul...without his mother questioning if he was a monster..._

_Peter hadn't chosen this form of power taking anymore than Sylar had chosen his. And yet, Peter believed he was a hero...above the other common, fallen sinners of the earth...even though he wished to take and take and take and he needed and wanted and desired and coveted and sought out power just as much as Sylar ever had. Just because evolution had given him a means to do so without murder...how did that make Peter any more of a hero?_

_Fallen angels were once angels in the fullness of the Lord's glory. Just one misstep...just an allegiance with the wrong spirit...just one stumble and they were cast into the fiery pits of hell for all eternity; wings aflame and never to return to heaven._

_Peter could be a fallen angel. Just one misstep, after all...one misused power..._

_Sylar was beginning to understand more than just Peter's power. He was beginning to understand the man...Peter Petrelli. Peter __was__ like Sylar, and more than just for the reason of being special. Peter didn't waste the gifts of the power...he knew how to use them. He knew how to use them all. He knew how to embrace being different and special. He knew that one power was not enough...all the powers of the world couldn't satisfy Peter's need to save. He needed more powers...needed to have more...to know more...so that he could save everyone._

_Peter was but one misused power away from stumbling from the high pedestal he had climbed onto and finding himself falling into Hell. One good intention away from damnation._

_And like the Devil himself, Sylar was eager to help dash the angel's wings._

_Peter had already absorbed Ted's power, as Sylar had overheard the two men speaking about their next course of action. Apparently, Peter had seen the future too, but unlike Sylar, Peter still thought he had the power to change it. Peter kept insisting that he and Ted needed to escape to Nebraska where they could hide their dangerous power from the world, so that should they explode in a fiery inferno, no blood would stain the hero's immaculate hands._

"_Comin'?" Peter asked Ted, his sharp, hazel eyes blazing with youthful determination._

"_I'm in." Ted agreed, quickly._

_Sylar gave a soft chuckle...all the pieces were falling into place...it was working like clockwork now. Like the Devil tempting Jesus in the desert, Sylar would push the hero until the spotless veneer cracked and Peter was shown to be all too human and all too fallen...just like everybody else...and just like Sylar._

"_Me too." Sylar whispered, and his eyes burned with an eager intensity._

The movie was insipid...the plot contrived and clichéd...and Gabriel had known the movie's ending after the initial five minutes. Still, it was nice to spend time like this with Peter, and Peter seemed more than content to be enjoying insipid movie plots rather than being involved in crisis situations at the hospital...or any worse incidents that usually seemed to find their way into Peter's life.

Gabriel glanced down at the watch on his wrist. The movie probably had another fifteen minutes left in it..._and the outcome was so drearily obvious..._

Peter let out a loud laugh at a humorous part, reaching over to squeeze Gabriel's wrist with his hand. Gabriel felt a pleasant swoop in his stomach; he loved it when Peter did that whenever they watched movies together, as if much of Peter's enjoyment came in sharing his emotions with others. It was how Peter was in all things.

_Even now, he was still understanding more and more of how Peter worked. He liked that thought...that there were still some secrets of Peter that Gabriel could push back and uncover..._

Peter leaned over in his seat, his warm breath caressing Gabriel's ear as he spoke, "I think it was the guy in the white suit that did it, what do you think?"

It was most definitely the guy in the white suit who was the assassin, as Gabriel had guessed at the very beginning of the movie. Still, Peter's enthusiasm was sweet. Gabriel leaned back over to Peter, pressing his own lips closely to the other man's ear. "Yeah, you might be right." Then, after a moment's hesitation..._he __had__ figured it out before Peter..._he added, "It's definitely him, Peter. There were clues about it during the opening scene."

Then, in a teasing motion, Gabriel took Peter's earlobe in-between his teeth and gave a gentle tug downward. A soft moan escaped Peter's lips, before an endearing flush spread across his face. He moved his hand to rub the back of his neck as sheepish eyes swept towards Gabriel. But Gabriel had already turned his focus back to the screen, a wicked grin present on his face.

Peter moved forward again, his eyes narrowing in admonishment. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"You can _take_ me anywhere, isn't that what you were threatening last night?" Gabriel hissed, biting his bottom lip at the banter he loved rousing out of Peter.

"Be good." Peter insisted, but he leaned over ever so slightly to press a reprimanding kiss against the side of Gabriel's cheek.

Gabriel folded his hands on his lap contently as a pleasant sensation settled within him. This side of Peter was the kind that Gabriel liked to see most. For far too long, Gabriel had known the angry Peter..._the lost Peter...the frustrated Peter..._even the sweet Peter..._the gentle Peter...the hero Peter..._but the fun Peter and the mischievous Peter were all so new and exciting to Gabriel that he loved the times Peter was able to let his guard down and let those parts of his personality come out.

Gabriel watched the rest of the film..._surprise, surprise the assassin was indeed the man in the white suit..._with little interest other than casting glances in Peter's direction; delighting in any emotion that would pass across the young man's expressive face.

By the time the credits rolled, Gabriel was definitely ready to leave; gratefully standing to stretch his long legs as he also reached his arms over his head to stretch his lengthy form.

"So, what'd you think?" Peter asked, quirking his head to the side as he stretched his own arms in front of himself.

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at the younger man, "It was a bit predictable."

Peter gave a small nod in agreement. "Yeah, it was. But it was fun."

_Gabriel found that movies were most fun when they were unpredictable ...different...intriguing...not the standard popcorn faire. Good and evil are not the white and black narrative as presented in most films. But he was often in the minority with this opinion he knew, so he kept his thoughts to himself. He also didn't want Peter to misread his meaning, for indeed, despite the movie Gabriel had enjoyed the time he had spent with Peter._

"I had fun too." Gabriel gave a small smile, heading down the theater steps with Peter following closely behind him. With a pleased realization, he mentioned, "And we still have vanilla ice cream at home."

"I know, it's gonna be the best night ever." Peter replied, the mischievous glint still in his eyes. Although he was slightly teasing, Gabriel knew that Peter was looking forward to the quiet but pleasant evening that was sure to ensue when the men made it back to the apartment.

"I found a good book for you, Peter, that I think you'd like." Gabriel mentioned, softly as the two men began heading towards the theater exit. "It's called _Dying of the Light. _It's about a dying culture on an alien world as their planet breaks away from its orbit and rushes towards a cold and dark part of space. The book also mirrors those elements with other forms of death...the death of relationships, characters within the story. It's very complex, but ultimately it's about facing fears concerning living and dying. I liked it a lot, I think you would too."

"Sounds intense." Peter murmured, and Gabriel reminded himself that Peter rarely liked materials regarding death..._having already been scarred enough by its darkness throughout his young life..._but that hadn't been Gabriel's point, the book was metaphorically concerning so much more than simply _death_.

"It is, but I'd really enjoy talking to you about it." Gabriel insisted, glancing over at Peter as the young man matched him stride for stride. "I just finished reading it a couple days ago."

"I'll check it out then, you have good taste." Peter smiled, although Gabriel was still unsure of how eager Peter was to read the book. Nevertheless, Gabriel allowed himself to be contented by the answer.

There was a poem of the same name that the book had taken its title from.

_Do not go gentle into that good night. _

_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

Although the poem was concerning death, Gabriel now appreciated it as a metaphor for his relationship to Peter. For indeed, their romantic love could have been the dying of the light...except for the fact of how both men had decided to rage, rage against the notion that they should not be together. Against the death of their connection.

Because their connection had always run deeper than any dying of the light.

_Peter Petrelli was slightly different since their last encounter...less doe-eyed, less virginal in his grasp of the world...but he was still just as irrationally determined that he was the chosen one meant to save the world. Peter was Abraham among the pagan idol-worshippers; he alone understood the call to a Higher Power. He was St. Peter, the rock upon which Christ would build the church._

_He was the Chosen One._

_Except, he was actually the Damned One and Sylar was about to show them all how their hero Peter was no more of a good man and no less of a monster than Sylar himself. The plan was nearly perfect now; the only piece remaining was Sylar attaining Ted's power himself in order to both see how the power worked and to use it to seduce Peter to his fall._

_It was all so clear now, and the broken clock of his mind was keeping time once more. Peter would explode and kill thousands and thousands of innocent souls...Sylar would somehow take the responsibility for it...for it was a million times more delicious to have the world still believe in Peter's sainthood while the saint himself knew of his hell-bound soul. It made him even more hypocritical and duplicitous in his supposed strength in the face of evil. It made him a fallen angel in every delightful sense of the word._

_And then, Sylar would use Peter's political connections to make an even more powerful...and more special...name for himself. All of this still needed to come together and be cemented into plan, but he knew with just a few more powers he could possibly take the place of Nathan Petrelli...become one of the most powerful men in New York politics...and then become one of the most powerful men in the world._

_Because watching his older brother destroy everything Peter held sacred would bring even more of the devil out of the youngest Petrelli. And the more devil that Peter let out Sylar could prove that, in the barest of truths, there are no heroes and villains._

_Only monsters that fall sooner and then monsters that fall later._

_It was time to plant the evil seed in the hero's heart. Evil seeds grow and grow; it was why it was unwise to be idle. Idle hands lead to the Devil's work, after all, and Peter's hands were very idle as he walked the streets of New York with Ted and the others, and the Devil had a lot of work for him to do..._

_Ted's a fugitive. I can use that to get his power.__ And Sylar had allowed Peter to hear his thoughts, to plant that little seed so that through Peter's determined, boy-wonder like heroics, he would kill everyone he so desperately wanted to save._

_Now who was the hero and who was the villain?_

_Peter reacted instantly, turning quickly as if __he __would be able to see where Sylar was hiding...Sylar felt annoyed at Peter's naivety...in Peter's need to change the future he'd only propel himself closer towards its intended outcome._

"_What is it?" Claire asked, her face clouding in concern for her brave hero._

_Sylar had already violated Peter through the spoiling of the young man's initial boyish pureness...the destruction of New York at Peter's hands would do far greater irreparable damage to the young man's soul. And yet Sylar was committed to this road of destroying Peter...because if he couldn't destroy Peter he'd have to face Peter...face himself in the mirror Peter always seemed to hold up for him...have to face those sharp, hazel eyes...those lips...no. It was better to destroy. To destroy because to understand was sometimes too self-revealing. _

"_Sylar. He's here, he's watching us." Peter was still trying to find where Sylar was...to what purpose? Was Peter actually expecting that he could fight Sylar here, in the middle of the crowded New York streets? Did Peter really view life like his favorite comic book? A clear hero in defense of the city with the beautiful, young girl by his side as the villains are routinely defeated solely for the grand moral that good always wins out in the end?_

_Peter would learn soon enough. _

"_Right now?" Claire wondered, and although she clung close to the strength of her hero, she seemed to have also become braver in her own right._

_Or more foolish, Sylar couldn't decide._

"_He knows what Ted can do. We need to get off the streets." Peter grabbed Claire by the arm in protective assertiveness and pulled her towards a small store. Ted followed dutifully, although he was clearly shrouded in confusion._

"_Who's Sylar?" Ted wondered, as the trio found a place they mistakenly imagined would keep them safe from the monster's chase._

_But Sylar needed not to chase. Like the future, he was content to bide his time until all the gears fell into place and the clock ticked down to the apocalypse. Sylar leaned back against the wall and enjoyed his vanilla ice cream with colored sprinkles he had leisurely purchased during the day while following his little special ones. He ate the ice cream slowly, savoring the taste as much as he would soon savor his victory against the man named Peter Petrelli._

_Run, run, Peter Petrelli. Ted would soon be a part of Sylar and so would precious, little Claire. And Peter Petrelli would soon realize that if you fly too close to the sun, the wax of fake wings melt and lead to a terrifying plummet back to earth._

_Peter Petrelli was Sylar's to seduce straight down into the hot, churning fires of hell. There was a painful clenching in his stomach, and Sylar felt a small ghost of a smirk whisper across his face._

Nightfall had descended upon the busy streets, shrouding Peter and Gabriel in the soft twilight of lamplights and neon billboards that only added to the illustration that the city did indeed never sleep.

The resurgence of Peter's mischievous side had served to invigorate Gabriel, and he found himself walking directly behind Peter, trying to slip his hands into Peter's side pockets, wrapping his arms across the younger man's broad chest from behind to keep him in a permanent embrace, or leaning down to occasionally kiss, nuzzle and bite small areas of Peter's neck.

At first, Peter had allowed such attentions as he seemed to think that Gabriel was not planning on walking all the way back to the apartment with such public displays of affection. But it soon became clear...Peter's hands occasionally patting Gabriel's arms while resituating himself...that Gabriel was intent on letting everyone they walked past that night know unequivocally that Peter was his.

"_Gabriel_..." Peter murmured, placing his hands over Gabriel's to remove them from the young man's pockets. "C'mon, man."

"Come on, Peter, I just want to hold you..." Gabriel insisted, craning his neck down to nibble at the soft skin at the base of Peter's neck. Gabriel was delighted as he noted a couple glance in their direction, apparently scandalized by such actions.

_But they knew Peter was his and something deep within Gabriel roared in approval._

"Gabriel, stop, man...I'm serious." Peter replied gently, wriggling his body away so that Gabriel's lips slipped off of him.

"_Peter_..." Gabriel hissed, tightening his embrace around the other man's chest. _ Peter was finally his...his mischievous, fun, beautiful, sweet Peter...Gabriel wished to devour him..._

Peter consented for a moment to the embrace, but as soon as Gabriel tried to bring his lips back down to attack that delightful pulse on Peter's neck, Peter grabbed Gabriel's arms and pulled them down off of him, wrenching his neck further away.

"Peter, what's the matter with you?" Gabriel demanded, dropping his hands down and away from Peter as he moved to walk side by side with the other man.

"You're gropin' me. It's inappropriate." Peter insisted, his hazel eyes shooting towards Gabriel with a look of admonishment. "We're not teenagers anymore."

Gabriel bristled at Peter's words. While Peter may have gotten to carry on and make-out with _his _dates during his teenage years, Gabriel had never had such a luxury. Gabriel had been socially awkward...and lonely...and unwanted...and unloved the entirety of _his_ youth. He imagined a young Peter Petrelli walking hand in hand with his date as they shamelessly kissed and grabbed at each other with little care of what anyone else in the world thought of them.

_He wondered if Peter had many other lovers before Gabriel...the young man seemed so at ease with matters of the heart...and in giving his heart out to be loved while loving passionately and deeply in return...Gabriel felt an uncomfortable pang of jealousy._

"I bet you were a real heartbreaker." Gabriel sighed, his private thoughts finding their way to be vocalized. "Weren't you?"

Peter gave an uncomfortable roll of his shoulder, glancing up at Gabriel with a quirk of his lips. "I was never a _heartbreaker_..."

"Pawing at all of your dates down crowded streets..." Gabriel continued, raising a questioning eyebrow in Peter's direction, noting how the other man's face turned the most endearing shade of crimson.

"I was never like that." Peter insisted, trying to find a healthy medium for Gabriel as he moved to place his hand on the taller man's arm.

_Once again Peter was trying to portray himself as a saint. When he was a man...a needing, demanding, hungering man..._ Gabriel gave a small shake of his head. _ He shouldn't think of Peter like that. Peter was the one man in the world who truly hated meaningless sex without the deeper, penetrating comfort of love being present...Gabriel had learned that quickly in their early times together. But Gabriel liked that about Peter...after all, Gabriel was quite sick of experiencing anything meaningless within his life._

Peter gave him a small nudge, shaking him from his thoughts. "Hey, come on, Gabriel."

Gabriel gave a soft smile, trying to shake the feeling that he was once again engaging in self-destructive habits. He said nothing in reply, but simply leaned his shoulder in closer to Peter's, a subtle but tender way to show his devotion to the young man..._without the world needing to know, although Gabriel imagined that was half the fun sometimes._

"Heartbreaker." Gabriel responded, needing to get some kind of last word in. Peter gave a gentle laugh, leaning into Gabriel's shoulder as well, and Gabriel felt his worries mend.

Somehow, between Gabriel talking about the predictability of the movie they had just watched and Peter's insistent declarations that he was quite positive he had _never, ever _been a heartbreaker; a silly mood befell the two men in their walk back to Peter's.

They finally made it back to the apartment building, Peter entwining his hand in Gabriel's as soon as they entered the privacy of the deserted hallway; the younger man eagerly pulling Gabriel up the stairs and towards his room. Gabriel could feel his heart resounding in his chest, a smile spreading across his face as he watched Peter urge him on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

When they reached the outside of Peter's door; Gabriel found himself unable to keep his hands to himself again. He began rushing his hands over the lean muscle of Peter's chest before slowly running his fingers down the length of Peter's sides, finally wrapping his grasp tightly around the contours of the young man's hips.

Peter was laughing, breathlessly now, trying to place the key into the door even as he allowed Gabriel to push him up against the wall outside; the taller man's large hands rushing through Peter's thick, brown hair before falling to cup the other man's face. Gabriel's nostrils flared as he dragged sensitive fingers against the rough stubble on Peter's sharp jaw line.

"Gabriel...c'mon, let me open the door..." Peter murmured, giving breathy chuckles.

"_No_." Gabriel hissed, snaking his hands over to press against Peter's wrists. He quickly lifted them to roughly pin high above Peter's head, slamming them against the wall with a loud thud. Peter's chest began to rise and fall at a quickened pace, making the dark excitement in Gabriel's eyes intensify. Gabriel made a grab for Peter's keys..._to have Peter stop worrying about unlocking the door..._ but Peter tightened them in his grip to keep them out of Gabriel's demanding reach.

"I say that tonight, we're teenagers." Gabriel growled, one finger slipping down to gently stroke the soft pulse in Peter's captive wrist. "And you're my date that's led me on all night and is just a big tease..."

"_Gabriel_..." Peter groaned, breathlessly, dipping his head down towards his chest. When he finally lifted his soft, hazel gaze, Gabriel was delighted to see that there was a raw intensity now present that Gabriel had been trying to pull out of the young man all night.

"Stop teasing me, Peter..." Gabriel snarled, moving his head forward so that his face was now mere inches from Peter's. Gabriel could feel the blazing heat of Peter's breath scorching across his face. Gabriel gave a small gasp, as a powerful tightening was now taking hold in his stomach, his lower regions beginning to throb.

"Or what?" Peter whispered, his chest now so close to Gabriel's that it arched up into the taller man's with every deep breath that Peter inhaled. The younger man traced Gabriel's face with deeply intense eyes, his lips parting subconsciously.

"Or you'll get yourself into a lot of trouble." Gabriel hissed, drawing his lips down to press firmly against Peter's jaw line before slowly sliding his tongue across the top of Peter's throat. The small gasps and moans that were breaking from Peter's lips were extremely arousing, and Gabriel felt his grip on Peter's wrists tighten.

_God, Peter was so darkly stimulating...and when he stared at Gabriel with those expressive eyes, Gabriel just wanted to pounce on him on the spot; take him up against the wall right outside in the hallway. He wanted everyone to hear the erotic way Peter cried out while he was getting pounded, but at the same time he wished for it to be a noise that only he knew Peter could make. Peter told him many times that only Gabriel could pull certain sounds and moans from his lips...Gabriel wanted to hear them all echo in the air right now._

Keeping one hand on Peter's shaky wrists, Gabriel dropped his other hand to begin unbuttoning the top of Peter's shirt...his warm lips still caressing Peter's neck, as the young man hissed and whimpered beneath his attentions.

"_Kiss me_." Peter begged, and Gabriel felt a tremendous pressure beginning to build up within his sensitive area; whenever Peter pleaded with him for anything, Gabriel felt as if an electric current was coursing up his spine. Gabriel flicked his tongue down the base of Peter's throat and felt the young man shudder as he insisted, "_Kiss me, please_."

"Listen to you..." Gabriel groaned, moving his hands fervently down the buttons of Peter's shirt, making sure to take enough time to caress and appreciate the smooth skin found on his chest. Gabriel could feel his own heart beginning to slam up against his ribcage, his anticipation increasing. "You want this worse than I do. You're dirty, Peter, but I'll give it to you if you want it..."

"I'm not dirty." Peter moaned, but Gabriel could see that he was playing with him; the way Peter began to sensuously grind his hips in small circles against Gabriel's sensitive area made that point very clear.

"You're so dirty, Peter..." Gabriel groaned, his eyes slipping shut, his own touch faltering at the sudden shots of pleasure that burned through him like molten lava as Peter circled his hips. "You look so...s-so in-innocent...but _then_..._oh god_..."

Gabriel felt his thoughts begin to melt away completely, allowing Peter to continue his obscene dance of slowly circling his hips; pressing himself firmly against Gabriel until the taller man was gasping and grunting, pressing his shivering lips firmly against the side of Peter's face.

"_Let me go..._" Peter grunted, the pressure against his own growing arousal seemingly having an effect on him as well; his head falling back against the wall as his eyes rolled up in his head. "..._oh, Gabriel_..."

"_No..._" Gabriel whispered, bringing his lips back around to press hotly into the corner of Peter's. Peter strained to turn his head; to devour Gabriel's mouth with his own, but Gabriel was sure to keep his own mouth unmoving at the very corner of Peter's lips. "_No, _I...I like _touching _you until you're forced...forced to be my little impure angel..."

Peter's dark hair slipped down his face; lips trembling with barely restrained want to consume Gabriel's..._those lips that were slightly imperfect...but somehow that small flaw was all the more striking in their perfection...Gabriel finally understood why that was..._

"_Ah_..._god, Gabriel..." _Peter whimpered, his trembling hands clenching into fists above his head. "I—I have neighbors, y-you know..."

Gabriel gave a slight smirk..._he wondered, for a brief and perverse moment, if anyone had heard Peter's moans reverberating through the apartment walls..._but a much more real part of himself wished to have Peter in the beautiful privacy of their own safe world, and Gabriel was desperately ready to take the young man..._to make him moan and writhe in ways that only Gabriel would know...that only Gabriel would understand...when Peter was alone with the one he loved, no barriers ever remained... _

Gabriel gave Peter a small nod, sliding his hands down Peter's wrists before tenderly keeping his touch at the young man's elbows. There was a driving hunger burning in him now, and only Peter could feed it. Peter gave him a breathy chuckle, a light still burning darkly in his eyes, as he twisted his body out of Gabriel's grasp to unlock the door.

Peter twisted the knob and pushed the door open to his room. He turned back to face Gabriel, his lopsided grin painting his features..._right before intimacy that grin would drive Gabriel to the point of aroused insanity._ Peter reached out to grab onto Gabriel's hand, drawing the other man's flushed body close to his own as Peter pulled them into their hushed sanctuary.

As soon as Gabriel entered the room, he slammed the door shut behind him, rounding on Peter with a barely contained need. _He wanted to dominate tonight, needing to prove to Peter...and himself...that Peter was always his...always his and would continue to be his...his to pull burning emotions from, to pull aching lust from, to pull endless love from._

Peter gave a dark grin, biting his bottom lip teasingly. Gabriel was displeased to see Peter slowly backing away from him, his head quirked to one side as if challenging Gabriel that if he should truly want Peter, then he should be prepared to catch him.

"Come here, Peter." Gabriel demanded, outstretching his arm towards Peter. It appeared Peter was going to allow him the dominance he so craved for tonight, but not without a little work on his part to find a way in which to seize Peter beneath him.

_After all, Peter's good heart allowed him the ability to grant Gabriel's needs even without the other man having to speak them at all; but his scrappy nature required an overpowering of his sexual dominance rather than a relinquishment._

Peter continued to bite his bottom lip; his eyes narrowing as he slowly shook his head. He continued to back away, his eyes flashing a fake innocence that Gabriel knew he didn't possess during the heated passion of intimacy.

"Don't run from me." Gabriel growled, beginning to pursue Peter with long, purposeful strides. He didn't hurry after him too quickly as he was deeply stimulated by the chase..._and he knew Peter couldn't escape him_.

Peter kept his eyes intensely trained on Gabriel's deep brown gaze. The way that Peter was trying to evade him, all while never breaking eye contact, was making something inside of Gabriel burn aflame all the hotter.

Gabriel gave a small glance towards Peter's sensitive area, pleased to see the young man's arousal straining against his clothing as he slowly and sensuously twisted away from Gabriel's touch. _Good, he was being affected too_. Peter seemed to note the area in which Gabriel's eyes burned, as he gave a small blush, his focus derailed for a moment. This caused a small gasp to escape his lips as his lower back bumped into the edge of the table. Gabriel gave a smirk, he had Peter cornered at last.

Gabriel towered over Peter...he watched Peter's face carefully with his own dark eyes, watching as Peter gazed up at him without a trace of fear now. _Gabriel was glad...he liked these emotions much better...there was no fear now, no anger, no hatred...just a deepening love and a throbbing desire to have Gabriel plunge into him as he screamed out._

Gabriel reached out a trembling large hand..._Peter's skin was so soft..._as he wished to touch the young man's face and draw Peter in for the kiss he had pleaded for earlier._ Once Peter submitted to him, Gabriel always became a slave to all of Peter's needs and wishes._

But as Gabriel dipped down, lips parted and eyes slipping closed, Peter ducked under Gabriel's long arms and hurriedly moved around to the other side of the table .Gabriel's eyes flashed open, watching as the young man's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile before he became somber once more.

"Peter..." Gabriel scolded, pressing his shaking hands firmly down onto the table in hopes of grounding himself. _His own arousal was hot and needy...and Peter was making it worse. He didn't want to beg, but he needed Peter so badly...a part of him tenderly whispering and gently pleading for Peter as another part of him strode to be unwavering in his confidence._

"Hey, I'm not an easy date." Peter retorted, quirking his lips once more.

Gabriel shook his head, spurred on by Peter's insolent words. He gave a dark chuckle, his lip pulling back into a small snarl before covering his distance from Peter in two powerful strides of his long legs. _Peter would surrender himself to Gabriel...he always did...and when he did it was with the most agonizingly ardent of passions..._

Before Peter could hope to escape him again, Gabriel reached out and clasped a hand on the back of Peter's head. He pulled the young man forward so quickly that Peter's head gave a small jerk back in surprise. Gabriel smashed his lips into Peter's, working his jaw furiously to take in every inch of Peter's hot, wet mouth.

Peter was openly moaning into Gabriel's mouth now, hands fisting eagerly to grab bunches of Gabriel's shirt..._Oh, Peter was so precious in his expressive ways...the man let all his emotions and pleasure pour out from him during intimacy...nothing was kept from Gabriel. Gabriel wanted Peter so badly when he was like this, his tongue probing violently into Peter's mouth; trying to rediscover every inch of the young man as he felt Peter's hips jerk subconsciously beneath him._

Gabriel began working Peter's belt off from around his waist, the young man continuing to groan as Gabriel gave heated and eager grunts of his own. Peter may have been a gentle man, but he did have an aggressively dark side..._Gabriel knew that probably better than anyone else in the world..._but somehow that aggression was channeled beautifully during lovemaking. After all, Gabriel was equally as erotically enticed when Peter would grab and push and pull at _him_, but tonight Gabriel just wanted to have his way with Peter while watching the younger man dutifully surrender to his will.

Gabriel tossed Peter's belt to the floor, his hand now moving up to cup Peter's tender arousal, stroking and kneading until he had Peter keening in desperation. Peter's lips broke away from Gabriel, a slow moan slipping out of him, as his head lolled back. He threw his back against the edge of the table as his hands moved to press roughly..._demandingly..._into Gabriel's shoulders, his hips moving forward to feel more of the other man's deft touch against him.

"_Peter..._"Gabriel groaned, his own hips bucking forward as Peter's fevered sounds seemed to be pulling all rational thought from his mind. "_...tell me how dirty you are._"

Peter moved his hands behind him to steady himself against the table. He snorted heavily, head dipping backwards as his chest arched forward. "I'm...I'm _not _d-dirty..."

_No, Peter was __not __dirty, everything about this experience with the young man completely cleansing every single time. Peter's passion was like a warm bath in holy redemption and Gabriel knew that one baptism was certainly not enough for salvation in Peter's waters..._

Gabriel roughly jutted his hands out to grip onto Peter's hips, lowering his head onto the young man's shoulder as he released a strangulated cry. _When had he first touched Peter...known how alive and expressive Peter could be with his sounds...was it during their first intimacy or during their second meeting in Mohinder's apartment...? Why was it important to know...to make sense of it all? _He hushed himself mentally..._only the man before him right now mattered..._ as he began to lift Peter's hips up onto the table..._Peter helped him...Peter always helped him..._

Gabriel watched as Peter quietly lowered his scorching form down in front of the taller man..._his eyes were firmly trained on Gabriel, calling to Gabriel like a blazing siren's song, urging Gabriel to fill him...Peter was like a virgin every single time, lips parted in gasps and moans of surprise, and every time he willingly relinquished his virtue to Gabriel's demands._

Gabriel gave an impassioned grunt, furiously unbuttoning his pants and tearing them down his hips with force, kicking off his shoes as he violently moved towards Peter's withering, prostrate form. He drew one long leg up on the table against Peter's slick hip before allowing his other leg to join him until he was satisfyingly straddling the young man beneath him.

Peter stretched his arms up in a rather innocent manner..._a softer expression settling on his features..._trying to coax Gabriel's soft, full lips back down towards his own. Gabriel consented to his wishes, collapsing on top of Peter, while meshing scorching bodies and tangled limbs. Gabriel's lips found the other man's as he once again feverishly continued to press himself against Peter again and again.

Peter was grabbing fistfuls of Gabriel's shirt, straining to bring Gabriel as close to his trembling form as possible. Peter's deep grunts and breathy moans were reaching Gabriel's ears with every deep intake he took of Peter's blazing, passionately twisting lips.

Gabriel released Peter for a moment, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. He pressed his forehead down firmly against Peter's, relishing the coolness of the other man's perspiration against the fever of his own. Gabriel moved his deft fingers down to the button on Peter's pants, watching closely as Peter nodded and writhed under him, the young man's hips giving a spastic jerk as Gabriel released him. With an arch of Peter's back, Gabriel slipped the young man's pants down his legs, stopping at the crook of his knees.

_It was enough for what he wanted to do. And that was to have Peter hard and fast. For a moment, he toyed with the idea that Peter was his teenage date...a pure, innocent young man who had trusted Gabriel to be good to him...and Gabriel would be __very__ good to him. He would corrupt Peter...watch Peter's beautiful face as his innocence slipped away from his abandoning features...every moan urging Gabriel to feed him the apple...to experience all the pleasure...all the pain...that came with __knowing_.

_The thought made his sensitive area pulse with need. _Gabriel dipped his arousal down and pressed it onto Peter's warm stomach, just below his bellybutton. The taller man gave a slow moan from the contact..._so warm, so intimate..._ his eyes flashing open to watch as Peter's fluttered shut, eyelashes kissing his cheeks in excitement for Gabriel's actions. Gabriel wrapped firm fingers around himself as he dragged his arousal in small, tantalizing circles around Peter's tightening, burning stomach. Gabriel let out a raspy groan, his broad shoulders shuddering and slumping forward. He watched as Peter continued to grasp at his shirt, bringing his hands up to claw against Gabriel's covered back.

Gabriel felt his face flush a burning crimson as his arousal throbbed in his hand..._he wanted to bury himself completely inside of Peter, Peter's imperfectly perfect lips parting and letting out the most precious, wanton murmurs of excitement..._but soon all thoughts were rendered meaningless as Peter moved his own hand to wrap around Gabriel's, coaxing the other man's large hand away until only Peter's squeezed around the tender, scorched flesh.

Gabriel's eyes widened in adoration as Peter gave him a small tug, persuading Gabriel to shift his hips towards Peter's mouth. Gabriel willingly moved his hips forward as he brought his legs further up the table, his form already giving small tremors from the thought of what the beautiful young man beneath him was promising.

A choked sob grated past Gabriel's throat, his hands clenching into fists as they burned on the top of the table. The feel of Peter softly pressing firm kisses against the tip of his arousal before working the warm lips of his mouth down towards the base was completely undoing. Gabriel brought his hands up to twist and grip onto Peter's hair; his fingers clinging and pulling at the thickness of the locks. He tightly shut his eyes, shots of pleasure rippling through his sensitive area before billowing up through his chest and mind.

_Peter was the only one who could take Gabriel's damned soul to heaven with every touch. This was pure ecstasy...the sensation of Peter's tongue caressing up and down his throbbing flesh; alternating between firm and feathery kisses. Gabriel was moaning in complete abandonment now, eyes screwed shut and jaw set furiously, snorts and grunts spurting heatedly from his nose_.

"_Oh god, Peter..._" Gabriel rasped, as he felt his long legs begin to tremble. He gave another loud cry as Peter whispered kisses over Gabriel again and again. Gabriel sucked in a deep breath, his lungs aching from the lack of air in the room, his nerve-endings screaming from the prolonged stimulation.

Gabriel wrenched his eyes open in order to watch Peter's face. The young man's eyes were tightly shut, his face set in concentration as he finally encompassed Gabriel's pulsating arousal fully into his hot, scalding mouth. Peter dragged his mouth up and down, again and again, until Gabriel nearly came undone; deep waves of pleasure crashing upon the shore of his body. His hands continued to pull at Peter's dark hair in vehement ferocity.

There was a deep and pleasured coiling in Gabriel's lower regions; his stomach beginning to feel the twisting smolder of light spasms. Peter's lips were like fire, the deep intakes of his mouth against Gabriel's sensitive area like bolts of white hot lightening.

_Peter was giving soft, muffled moans..._Gabriel gave another stifled groan at the feel of the vibrations against his arousal. _Peter appeared to be coming undone as well, his own hips giving small thrusts into the air as if hoping that Gabriel would soon find him; allowing Peter to release all the pent-up wants that were also building within him._

The taller man allowed Peter to slip his mouth away from him slowly. Peter's head slumped against the table, a wild look blazing in his eyes. _God, Peter's eyes... eyes that burned hotter than any earthly flame; they seared into Gabriel's soul until it was purified of all blackness by the fires of redemption...these moments before having Peter fully were like sweet purgatory in which all Gabriel's unworthiness tapered away under that scorching gaze._

Peter's chest was heaving as he tried to desperately suck in lost air; his hands moving to sensuously slide up Gabriel's slick hips. He cast Gabriel another heated glance as he roughly bit at his bottom lip, a small moan bubbling forth. _ Peter needed him too...oh god..._

Gabriel moved his sweat-slicked body down across Peter's with agonizingly slow intensity; their forms becoming like shadows in the darkening apartment. Gabriel continued to slide himself, twisting and grunting, down the silhouette of Peter's arching chest.

_His sensitive area was urging him to drive into Peter relentlessly..._he pushed Peter's pants a bit lower and used his knees to spread Peter's legs, a new and more powerful hunger roaring in his chest. He watched Peter closely, delighting in the way that Peter's head was thrashing back in obvious anticipation; his hands fisting at his sides in desperation.

_He took a moment to think if Peter was his innocent young date...the fantasy oddly compelling as he imagined pushing into Peter for the very first time; the apple tasting sweet as its juices pooled down the young man's body...his moans of surprise turning to heated screams of knowledge. The teasing kisses and flirting touches of before were nothing compared to what the ultimate forbidden fruit offered...and now Peter would know what real pleasure was and would always remember that it had been Gabriel that had unlocked it within him. _

Gabriel brought his hips down and slowly moved into Peter's body, a loud rumble vibrating through his chest. Peter gave a short cry..._but this was not the first time that Gabriel had taken him and Gabriel knew that Peter's discomfort would not last long. _ Still, Gabriel noted Peter's need to take a moment to recover from the overwhelming sensations..._he recognized such needs in Peter now and the thought comforted him greatly..._as he dipped his lips to Peter's ear, whispering soft affections while lightly stroking the young man's damp hair.

He felt Peter give a small nod..._he was ready_...and Gabriel began to rock his hips back and forth in their familiar, learned rhythm. Peter knew how to match his speed, moving to meet him pound for pound, but Gabriel burned to quicken the pace. He gripped tightly onto Peter's hips and created a new tempo...the rocking turned into pounding, the slow gentle movements turned rough and desperate, and Peter's hips were now jolting off the table as Gabriel drove into him; giving him punishing thrusts again and again.

_This was the salvation that Peter always brought him...the young man's precious abandonment so beautiful, his moans increasing with intensity; his fingers digging into Gabriel's back, his arms still covered by the stimulating fabric of his shirt but his chest was bare. Gabriel's nerves were burning with stimulation as the two men's hips continued to meet again and again, each time they slammed against each other an uncontrolled supernova threatened to explode within them._

"_Ah...Gabriel..._" Peter cried out, his eyes sliding shut as his mouth parted in pure bliss; his legs were beginning to tremble and shake from where they gripped onto Gabriel's hips. Gabriel could feel his stomach twisting into knots, wave upon wave of pleasure making him arch and cry out for the release that only Peter could grant. He could feel Peter's arousal throbbing and trapped in-between the scorching skin of their stomachs, all of Gabriel's manic thrusts rubbing and kneading the flesh there. _This was passion...messy, fast, rough, hard passion...and Gabriel loved it...his hips were near spastic, every drive jolting Peter against him; each thrust hitting something deep within Peter that was making him scream. _

Another wave of ecstasy shot through Gabriel's body as he dipped his head towards his heaving chest, moaning Peter's name into the settling darkness.

Peter's hands clung to other man's hips..._fingers digging into them; both of the men's skin burning white from the demanding grip..._he was helping Gabriel to pound into him stroke for stroke. The young man's face was furrowed and his jaw tightly set. His sweat-slicked chest repeatedly arched into Gabriel's, his face and chest now flushing a deep red. Gabriel could see that Peter was nearing his edge, his vocalizations now spilling from his lips uncensored. _Peter was like that during intimacy...he never cared about appearing vulnerable; he was so __assured__ in love, in the fires of passion, in the soft caresses of adoration...that to hold back would be unthinkable. So instead every desperate cry, every needing moan, every unfiltered ecstasy, every call of his lover's name would burn past his shaking lips...for indeed, he was never ashamed to love with every fiber of his being and let go entirely._

_It was why Gabriel loved him so much._

Gabriel felt so unbearably overheated, pushing into Peter's body as deeply as he could go, rushing forward to hit all the angles that made Peter cry out and arch, trying to reign in his own growing tremors from consuming him too soon.

_It was all becoming too much, too fast, too hard...and Peter was about to bite into the apple. Peter's body was trembling with light spasms now...his lips parting as his head dipped backward...there was a realization now as his teeth sank into the fruit that something beautiful and powerful was burning just around the corner...this was all so new, so indescribable...the spilling juices mixing with tears...the beauty of his first climax now touching him..._

Gabriel cried out as he felt Peter tightening around him; the young man's body arching up off the table. His spasms had reached a fever pitch as he thrust his quivering hands up to bury into Gabriel's thick hair. Peter shut his eyes tightly, his stomach contracting rapidly as his lips parted and he shouted, "_God, Gabriel...my god...I love..."_

But then these words were stifled, whether self-conscious of Gabriel's earlier admonishments or not, as he bit down hard on Gabriel's shoulder, effectively muffling his own roars. He was snorting heatedly through his nose; grunts and gasps bursting forth as his trembles began to slowly cool and quiet.

It was all too much, all of it..._Peter was making him drunk on pleasure...he was stronger than any hunger..._Peter was pulling Gabriel into the supernova he had created with his eruption, and the once dominant man had no choice now but to submit to Peter. Gabriel had always thought he could draw the devil out of Peter, but in reality it was Peter that drew everything from Gabriel..._everything beautiful...so intensely beautiful..._

And..._god_... the spasms blazed through him now, as his stomach tightened powerfully before releasing all the pressure...all the tension...in one final thrust. His climax beat upon him like angry waves, drowning him in pleasure as he arched his back into the air, his form shaking and his lips parting so that choked grunts could rain down upon Peter. _It was all so beautiful...and he loved Peter so much_...his head falling down to his chest as his form quivered, his knees buckled and he collapsed atop of Peter in utter exhaustion.

"Oh god, Peter..." Gabriel gasped, clutching either side of Peter's face in his hands and drawing Peter's mouth to his again and again; drinking deeply from Peter but never quenching his thirst. He could taste himself still on Peter's shivering lips..._he permeated Peter in every manner, claimed him, marked him with these actions tonight. _ "You're so beautiful, Peter..._so beautiful...good god..._"

"_Oh, Gabriel..._" Peter moaned softly, pressing his lips firmly against Gabriel's, both their damp hair slipping down their warm faces and crushing into their mouths.

_It was so warm...a pleasant haze had permeated the room...as the air hung thick with their lovemaking. Gabriel was content to never move again; breathing in deeply before exhaling...his warm breath burning against Peter's lightly trembling chest._

"Wow, Gabriel that was..._oh_..." Peter whispered, his eyes wide with satisfaction; his hands coming up to instinctively wrap around Gabriel for comfort.

Gabriel gave a pleased chuckle, bringing his hands down to gently stroke Peter's damp hair. "Mmmmm..." He murmured, pressing his forehead down against Peter's chest and taking in a deep breath of his masculine scent. "I can feel your heartbeat...it's so _fast_ still..." Gabriel smiled, turning his head so that his ear rested against the slamming thump of Peter's racing heart.

Peter nodded, still seeming to be at a loss of words. His breathing still had a slight hitch to it and Gabriel wished to make him speak; knowing his voice would be beautifully dark and raspy as it usually was after intimacy.

"I thought about you being my date while we were together..." Gabriel murmured, his head rising up and down to the motions of Peter's chest. "It was your first time. But you were a natural."

Peter gave a light chuckle, his hands stroking the back of Gabriel's damp shirt gently. "Oh, Gabriel...what am I gonna do with you?"

Gabriel gave a soft chuckle..._he had so many ideas for what Peter could do with him, but he was too exhausted to suggest any of them right now..._ "Don't worry. I'll still respect you in the morning."

Peter gave a small smile, his hands moving up to play with Gabriel's dark hair. "That's a relief." But the smile slowly slipped off of his face as his words grew serious, "But it's true, Gabriel. It's always so..._new..._so very new when I'm with you. I...need that."

Gabriel felt his own heart skip a beat as he gave a small grin..._Peter's heart still resounding against his ear...it was slowly quieting...the rapid pounding becoming gentle thuds. Gabriel liked feeling new...he liked that he could make Peter feel new too. But all Gabriel's thoughts had led him to wonder...what if he and Peter had met while both had truly been new? Not new in a physical sense, but in every sense. If they had met before Peter had any reason to believe that he and Gabriel shouldn't fall in love someday._

He decided to broach the question, Peter's words evoking a calm confidence within him..._and_ _all of the supposing had left him wondering...and he always liked to know_. "What do you think actually would've happened? If we had met when we were younger, I mean."

Peter went quiet, obviously not expecting Gabriel to have asked such an unusual question. Gabriel held his breath, a bit unsure if he had said the wrong thing for a moment. _It was a slightly wearisome thing to have to keep wondering...but that was his fault as well, and he couldn't blame Peter for that. _

Gabriel watched Peter's face questioningly, and was relieved to see the young man's small smile reappear, "I don't know..._would_ you have tried to get me into bed?" Peter teased.

Gabriel chuckled, but gave a small shake of his head. _His teenage self was definitely nowhere close to being confident with relationships...or any form of intimacy, for that matter. _"No...no, definitely not." After a moment's thought, he added, "You would've had to say hi to me first before we could've even been friends. I would've been too shy...you must've always been very kind though. I bet you were nice to the shy kids."

_He had an image of young Peter walking down the school steps, as Gabriel watched him...as the tall, young man had done every single day...wishing that handsome Peter would say hello, flash him a grin, anything to suggest that Peter knew that Gabriel even existed._

_It would have had to have been Peter that said hi first, that sat down to talk with Gabriel. Gabriel had been too shy and Peter was someone whom everyone liked and noticed. But Peter had a sensitive soul...a loving heart...and Gabriel could almost imagine Peter stopping one day and sitting down on the ledge of the steps next to Gabriel...looking at Gabriel with big hazel eyes...eyes that had never had reason to fear him, reason to hate him, reason to wish they had never met...and Peter would ask Gabriel his name._

_Maybe they would've been friends first and Gabriel could've gotten to know all the sides of Peter that it had taken him such a long time to know in reality. Peter could be funny and light-hearted around Gabriel because it would have been safe to have done so since the beginning. Maybe eventually, Peter would let Gabriel hold his hand...would let Gabriel wrap his arm around Peter's shoulders...would let Gabriel steal a chaste kiss. But it would have to be Peter who would overcome Gabriel's shy, angry nature that cut himself off from love because he knew deep inside that he had never deserved it. But it would all build beautifully; until Peter took Gabriel one day and kissed him...really kissed him. And Gabriel would respond and all his angers and frustrations and self-doubts would vanish as Peter finally led him into the bedroom. And Peter wouldn't have felt ashamed that he had wanted the killer...because Gabriel had never killed so there would be nothing wrong with Peter's love. And Peter wouldn't ask Gabriel to leave again and again only to be pulled into the same nightmarish cycle of wanting Gabriel but wanting Gabriel to go away, because in this reality Peter only wanted Gabriel to stay. They would make love and Peter would've saved Gabriel...saved Gabriel in so many ways that neither would ever fully understand._

_And Peter wouldn't be afraid...wouldn't be guilt-ridden...to introduce Gabriel to Angela. And Angela would treat Gabriel like her own son...why wouldn't she love the man that brought Peter so much happiness._

_And years later, they would be here, lying on the kitchen table, holding each other in the tender aftermath of their lovemaking. Only, neither man would have deep scars gashed across their souls...Peter's clipped wings wouldn't still need tender mending for they had never been sheared...and Gabriel would be able to say I love you and not worry that he would be punished for finally letting go and admitting that he __did__ deserve love._

"Would you have said hi, Peter?" Gabriel murmured, his voice still far away as his mind drifted through his lucid thoughts.

"Gabriel," Peter chuckled, a little too roughly. "I don't know."

Gabriel pouted, his thoughts returning to the reality of the moment. "I guess you're right. I just wondered if you still would've liked me, that's all."

Peter gave a slow nod, but Gabriel could see his smile turning impish to banish their discontented feelings. "Well, what do you want me to say? _Yes..._I would've liked you...in fact; we would've made out under the bleachers for hours."

Gabriel laughed and nodded..._Peter was teasing him, none of that was real, but the image was quite amusing anyway. _He brought his lips back down to capture Peter's, a warmth seeping into him as Peter matched the sweetness of the kiss; pressing their cooling forms flesh against each other while softly searching.

"I _knew it_..." Gabriel whispered, his own teasing quality returning. "I knew you were secretly dirty..."

"I'm not dirty." Peter responded, with his usual playful defiance, before his own voice lowered and he murmured, "..._unless I'm with you..._"

Gabriel gave a soft moan; the final admittance..._that he was the only one Peter would be dirty for_...had his stomach fluttering.

_But Gabriel still couldn't help but wonder...what if young Gabriel and young Peter had met...before there were powers, and hunger, and confusion, and blood, and betrayal, and anger, and hatred...if they had met before all of that, what would have happened? He would probably never get an honest answer out of Peter right now...even though both were simply innocent boys then, it was still the past. And Peter didn't like talking about the past._


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Sorry everyone! I was gone on vacation, so that's why I haven't been able to update for awhile! But a BIG thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/added to favorites in that time. I really hope that you like this next chapter! **

**Chapter 8**

_Sylar's hand fluidly moved across the canvas; the paints swirling in their promise of revealing the future. The future had always frightened Sylar, and he wasn't entirely certain if this new power helped quell that fear or not. But that didn't matter now...he was beyond fear, he was standing on the precipice of destiny...and he simply needed to know his next move, like a chess piece moving across the universe's board._

_And what an intriguing game it had been...at the moment he had thought his journey had been drawing to a close...he was to explode and leave his mark forever upon the blood-stained pages of history as the man who disintegrated New York City...his journey had actually been racing towards a wonderfully new beginning. Before the night was over, Peter would be the exploding man...he would deny the Lord three times before the cock crowed, and would forever have to live with the knowledge that his sins had crucified the world._

_And Sylar would go on to be president...and from there, well the possibilities were simply endless. He'd feel very special...and very powerful...yes, all of that was good. And Peter...well, Sylar was glad that he didn't have to kill the young man now. After all, Sylar couldn't do any of it without Peter's help...and the young man's sanctimonious fall would be simply delicious to witness._

_Sylar drew his hand away from the painting, eagerly drinking in the sight. He had painted himself on the canvas...fists clenched angrily at his sides, a dark shadow encircling his entire form...and Peter stood across from him, the light seemingly permeating the younger man._

_They were both in Kirby Plaza in downtown New York...Sylar had scrawled the name in a somewhat disorganized fashion...the inversion of some of the letters should have bothered him, but he found that at the moment he didn't care. There were even more bothersome things about the painting...such as how it portrayed Sylar...the man of darkness...and Peter...the man of light._

_There stood Peter Petrelli...ready and prepared to fight Sylar; ready to save humanity from despair. Sylar was supposed to be the one searching for the young man, he was supposed to be two steps ahead of Peter as he sucked Peter down into Tartarus. However, here stood Peter ready to defy the Devil once more...as if Peter were eternally vigilant in his promise to remain the constant hero._

_A bubbling rage took hold of Sylar as he viciously turned towards the picture that the painter, Isaac Mendez, had drawn earlier of Peter flying...soaring through the sky with a carefree smile painting his face...the wind rushing through his dark hair...overflowing with innocent goodness...back before the young man knew of Sylar's existence._

_Peter Petrelli...Sylar was so __sick__ of Peter Petrelli...Peter Petrelli always shining in the light, always looking so sure of himself, always so heroic with his big, bright eyes and full lips slightly parted..._

"_Peter Petrelli!" He snapped as he threw his arm out in barely controlled anger, his telekinesis slicing through the painting. Peter's head fell to the floor with a satisfying thud, and Sylar gave a small snarl of disapproval, the anger still blazing in his dark, brown gaze._

_Peter Petrelli...it was always Peter Petrelli. There were hundreds...maybe even thousands of special ones in this world...yet Peter and Sylar stood above all of them like giants, like God and the Devil fighting for all the lost souls.. Well, the devil was always thrust back down into hell eventually...and Sylar would be certain to draw the devil out of Peter tonight._

_And then Peter could burn with Sylar for an eternity._

_The walk to Kirby Plaza had been a silent, reflective one. Sylar felt his mind almost clear, as he mentally prepared himself for everything to unfold as it was meant to tonight. He needed only wait a few moments in the Plaza...the only sound the trickling of the water splashing down the bright orange, iconic fountain...before he saw Noah Bennet and Peter Petrelli rounding the corner, speaking in hushed whispers._

_A sense of purpose seemed to already blaze in Peter's gaze. That was fine...that passionate fire burning in those bright eyes would be snuffed soon enough. Peter and Sylar weren't so different after all...it was all making more and more sense every time Sylar took the time to think of it. Peter could just as easily be a monster too. Peter already was a monster. He just needed a little help to unlock it...he just needed a little emotional guidance tonight. _

_Sylar watched, a small smirk painting his face as Noah Bennet spoke about a tracker that was leading the men to Sylar's whereabouts. As if Sylar didn't __wish__ to be found...Noah was insufferably arrogant. Sylar looked forward to the day when pretty, little Claire's power belonged solely to him...it would be wonderful to see Noah's face once he realized that Sylar had stolen his precious little girl's ability._

"_Alright," Peter agreed, turning to face Noah. His eyes were so bright...as if filled with a hot, scalding fire. "I think that means he's hiding in plain sight." Peter turned to glance around behind him...ah, Peter Petrelli. Still so naïve, like a small child. Sylar would appear exactly when no one was looking...delighting in the control he held over all of their emotions._

_Sylar knew it was time to step out of the shadows, pleased with himself as he tapped on Noah's shoulder. Noah was exceedingly insignificant tonight, after all, he needed to be disposed of so that he wouldn't spoil the fun once Sylar began his toying with Peter Petrelli._

_Noah spun around to find himself face to face with Sylar. Although Sylar kept his face as stone-like as possible, he couldn't help the pleasant ripple that roiled through him. Arrogant Noah...he already __was__ a monster like Sylar, long before Sylar ever met him. Sylar wanted to say something terribly inappropriate about pretty little Claire...mixing her precious ability with other salacious innuendoes, for although he never wished to have Claire in such a manner, nothing hurt Noah worse than compromising the virgin honor of his little girl._

_It was always too easy...and __fun__...but Sylar had more important men to deal with tonight. Noah was not his equal...Noah was a nuisance. Peter Petrelli...that was the man of the hour, and Sylar told himself nothing would distract from his desire to undress Peter of his shining armor tonight._

_Sylar outstretched an arm to quickly dispose of Noah, watching the man fly and crash against a building in the opposite direction. He gave a hint of a smirk...Noah's pain was always more than a bit satisfying._

_It was time to focus solely on Peter now...innocent Peter to be made innocent no more. A warm coiling was heating within Sylar's stomach as Peter wielded around on the taller man, his bright eyes growing dark and wide as he prepared to be the hero he had come to always expect himself to be._

_Oh, Peter. Peter, Peter, Peter...so delicious in his naivety. So perfect in his gullible honor. He was angry deep inside...why Sylar wasn't exactly sure...but the taller man had seen a flash of that anger when he had tried to cut Peter's head open during their chance meeting in Mohinder's apartment. Yes, Peter's eyes had indeed held a deeper anger...an inner anger that Sylar knew all too well...and Sylar knew how to draw that anger out...how to intensify it until it was overwhelming and all-consuming._

"_What took you so long?" Sylar mocked, and he delighted in the dominance he held over Peter in the moment. Isaac Mendez was with him now...Ted Sprague was with him now...Zane Taylor was with him now...Brian Davis was with him now...all present for him to call upon at a moment's notice. And not just their powers...Isaac's confidence in the face of a terrifying future was surging through Sylar and he was wielding it with perfection._

_If Peter was frightened, he wasn't showing it this time. No...he was prepared tonight...the role of hero now embodying him rather than thrust upon him. His breathing had quickened...deepened...but he wasn't frightened. The man was very emotional...intensely emotional...passionately emotional...the way he had cried out in Mohinder's apartment had shown Sylar that...and Sylar was prepared to use that to his advantage tonight._

"_Haven't I killed you before?" Sylar purred, purposefully keeping his arms relaxed and at ease, noting how Peter's body had tensed significantly._

_Peter lifted his chin defiantly...such an insolent boy; it would be such a beautiful challenge to break him tonight. His hazel eyes burned, his feelings quite plainly painted on his face, but Sylar was like a statue, his emotions buried beneath stone._

"_Didn't take." Peter retorted, and his voice was dark and husky...adrenaline was flooding his system already...he was so receptive...more than Sylar had ever anticipated. This was new from Peter...the sarcastic bite, the hardening of his soft features...he was challenging Sylar. He was actually daring Sylar to even try and touch him once more... _

_Oh...oh, Peter...Sylar conceded with a small laugh and a nod...such a foolish boy. Sylar's face instantly sobered up before slipping into harsh anger...it was time to play and Sylar was the one controlling the game. He outstretched his arm to telekinetically choke Peter._

_Peter began to gasp, lifting his hands up to his throat. The invisible hand of Sylar only squeezed tighter...tighter around that smooth throat...as Peter's eyes widened and his panicked wheezes increased._

_You're so angry at me, Peter. Why don't you burn me?_

_Sylar began circling Peter like an animal, his preprogrammed taunts spilling from his lips, "You think I'm gonna let you ruin it all? Take all the glory?"_

_Oh, Peter. It was time for the young man to let the flames consume him; it was time to surrender to the violent passions of within. Self-control was highly overrated..._

_Sylar hesitated, noting a figure approaching out of the corner of his eye. Officer Parkman...he was severely annoying, but not a threat. No one could save Peter tonight. They could all try, but Peter belonged to Sylar tonight and he wouldn't give him up until he had done all that he needed to do with the young man._

_Officer Parkman shot his gun three times...stupid man, as if bullets meant anything to Sylar now. Sylar continued to squeeze all the air out of Peter's lungs, while simultaneously outstretching an arm to stop the bullets in their trek, mid-air. Officer Parkman shot once more...some people never learn, it seemed...and Sylar stopped that bullet as well. A gleeful smile broke across his face as Parkman dropped his gun in simplistic confusion. Oh, this one would be fun...Sylar began to turn the bullets around as he made a closed fist with his hand. Slowly...delightfully...he opened his fist and sent the bullets hurtling towards their master._

_Parkman died by his own hand, body jerking backwards as he was impaled. Sylar gave a small grin...__I'm killing those who try and save you, Peter...be a hero! BURN ME!_

_But Peter was not nearly angry enough yet. He was still being far too heroic...but there __was__ a darkness inside of him; Sylar was certain of it. He knew Peter now; he knew Peter as well as he knew himself it seemed. There was darkness that Peter had tried to hide, tried to keep secret...even from himself...and it scared him. Yes, it scared Peter...Sylar's own darkness had once frightened himself, after all. And Sylar was certain that Peter would unleash that darkness on the world if the proper buttons were pushed...or if the right fires were stoked._

_It was time to fan those flames...Sylar turned quickly to call a nearby parking meter to himself with simply a small jerk of his hand. He grabbed it out of mid-air with a deepening intensity...hoping his displays of anger would feed Peter's into exploding._

_Peter tried to lift his arms in almost pitiful self-defense, but Sylar was unmoved. The young man had brought this all upon himself after all...he should have stayed away... and Sylar felt the metal collide with Peter's body, watched as Peter fell to the ground._

_Almost instantly, Peter lifted his gaze back up towards Sylar. Pain blazed in his sharp eyes, but something else was still there...defiance. A deep defiance burned evermore, his brows furrowed, hot breath spurting from his panting lips..._

_God, Sylar hated him! How dare he...how dare he...how dare he be so similar to Sylar...have the gift, have all the powers, have all the specialness he ever desired...and yet be a __hero__. God, Sylar hated him...__hated him__...Peter would burn tonight, Peter would fall tonight; Peter would dash his wings upon the rocks tonight!_

"_Did you really think you could stop me?" Sylar hissed, raising the parking meter to rain down upon Peter once more. Peter was being like some precious martyr...taking the blows...his blood like a sanctifying river of salvation for others...as Sylar desperately tried to destroy him. It was as if, even now, Peter was trying to baptize Sylar with the blood of his sacrifice..._

_No, Peter would burn. He would burn in hell tonight, Sylar was determined, or else Sylar would be sure to leave Peter lying in the Plaza like a bloodied pulp...broken and beaten and pathetic for all to see come sunup._

_So focused was he on the prostrate form of Peter beneath him, that Sylar never noticed the woman come up from behind, never noticed the parking meter flying out of his grasp until it was too late. He only saw the woman's face for a moment...she was blonde, but completely unfamiliar...his face betrayed his confusion only moments before the woman seemed to decide to hit him full-force in the stomach; hurling him to the ground._

_The universe was strange. Sylar always thought that if any of his victims had the gall to put up a fight, by all means, he welcomed it...but he hadn't even __done__ anything to warrant such actions. She may have taken him by surprise but she was easily disposable just like the others...whatever the hell her problem was, Sylar could care less..._

_Sylar watched, trying to suck the air back into his lungs, as Peter rose once more to his feet. Peter ripped his jacket from his arms, revealing his broad shoulders...his lean chest...as the jacket was tossed in a heap towards the pavement. The light seemed to radiate off of him...__just like the painting__...and he was clothed in all the splendor of the sun; his white shirt a seeming metaphor for his pure heart. Sylar was dressed in garb of the night, cloaked in black, and all of this prophetic imagery was not lost on him in the least._

"_Mom! Dad needs your help!" A small boy cried out from the sidewalk...he seemed to be beseeching the woman who had inserted herself into the fight._

"_Go back to your family!" Peter snapped, his thick hair slipping down in front of his flushed face. Yes, yes, of course. Heroes stand alone...heroes shield others from harm...oh, it was all working out too perfectly. Peter was falling into the trap that all heroes did...in trying to save the world, he was isolating himself from it._

_And he would become very angry...very soon. Because when you stand alone, no one stands with you to keep you in check, to keep your darkness from overwhelming you, to keep the fires of your passion from spilling forth in beautiful damnation..._

"_I got this!" Peter growled, his voice so dark and husky that it seemed to grate against his throat...it burned in Sylar's ears. The adrenaline was pounding in Peter's veins now...oh, Sylar was lighting a flame in Peter that soon neither would be able to control._

_Sylar stumbled to his hands and knees as Peter quickly stalked towards him...the rage was now rippling off of Peter's heated body is boiling waves... he was such an angry young man too. These powers...they let angry young men hurt others in ways that were impossible without them. Angry thoughts could easily turn into murderous deeds. Peter and Sylar were so much alike...what made a hero and what made a villain...what made an angel and what made a demon...nothing, nothing, nothing. They were one in the same...both damned from the moment this gift had cursed their souls._

_Peter grabbed Sylar by the shoulder with a punishing grip and yanked him backwards. Peter's face was delightful...contorted with rage, flushed and red...nose spurting hot and dangerous air...and Sylar felt Peter's clenched fist collide with his face._

_Sylar fell backwards on his knees. He welcomed the beating...another heavy blow stunning him momentarily. Yes, yes, Peter...innocent boy was innocent no longer...sweet, tender heart ruined and spoiled. Peter was pounding him now...but the young man was not feeling better with every blow, on the contrary, he was feeling more and more lost to his rage. He somehow had the misplaced hope that in beating Sylar...in breaking something evil...he could somehow regain his own humanity, his virtue, his halo._

_But he was only falling farther...he was no longer protecting the city, he was trying to take out all his dark impulses on Sylar now...all his dirty little thoughts were pushing him to a place of no return...the bomb was ticking down. Sylar felt exalted even as his face ached and his body shook. He gasped; he was choking on his own hot blood..._

_Sylar glanced up at Peter in almost childlike wonder...Peter Petrelli; he was the only true angel Sylar had ever known in his isolated, lonely world, if only for a little while...a Christ-like figure wandering a desert filled with temptation..._

_The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread." _

_Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone.'"_

_Peter had been afraid the night of homecoming, but he had sacrificed himself for the pretty, little cheerleader. He had thrown the devil back into hell, even if it meant he shed his own blood to protect the innocent._

_But Peter had not died that night; the Lord had protected him, because Peter served the Lord, not powers. Peter had staid innocent and beautiful that night, he had only grown stronger in his resolve to be a man of the light._

_The devil led him up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And he said to him, "I will give you all their authority and splendor, for it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to. So if you worship me, it will all be yours." _

_Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.'"_

_Pieces of Peter's innocence had been ripped from him in Mohinder's apartment, and although perpetually scarred now, he remained strong. He would not let the man who had laid hands upon him to also ruin him. He had stayed in the light...he had remained determined that Sylar's hands would never again touch another innocent soul. Peter served God, not powers...and he was sworn to stop the one who took the powers of others without consent..._

_The devil led him to Jerusalem and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. "If you are the Son of God," he said, "throw yourself down from here. For it is written: 'He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.'"_

_Peter was being tempted a third time tonight...but this time, there was a burning fear...that perhaps the threat did not lie in others after all, perhaps the enemy was within. But Peter was certain this wasn't the case, no...the enemy had always been the devil before him. Peter served the Lord, not powers, and the Lord was not to be put to the test. But Peter was to be tested, and Peter was only human and deeply flawed at that...and angry...there was something dark living in that young man. Years of trying to live righteously may have quelled it, but he was only a man, after all, and men are weak creatures, weak creatures of passion..._

_Jesus answered, "It says: 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"_

_It glowed now...it burned now...and Sylar had put Peter to the test and Peter had failed. _

_Peter no longer served the Lord...like Sylar; he was a slave to his powers now. They controlled him; and it was time to kill...innocent boy made sinful man..._

_Sylar began to laugh in an almost crazed frenzy...oh, poor Peter...so confused...so angry. A strange thought suddenly struck Sylar...he hardly knew how to describe it. Peter almost looked...beautiful...in his uncontrollable rage. Sylar continued to laugh as a rush of inexpressible emotions began to course through him. He brought up a hand to wipe the stain of blood that dripped from his mouth; a sick mirth was shining unrepressed in his eyes now. He gazed up at Peter...god, why was Peter so beautiful __now__...in his moment of falling...sinning. He was just like Sylar now...just like Sylar..._

_Peter was still so confused by Sylar's laughter...why? Couldn't he feel the heated glow pulsating from his sinning hands? Couldn't he feel the throbbing radiation pushing through his body, consuming him, devouring him, ravaging him? No, he was too angry still...strong, lean chest moving up and down...face heated and lips trembling..._

_Sylar's eyes dropped from Peter's face to those beautifully glowing hands. His eyes widened as his broad smile intensified, satisfaction filling him. He quickly looked back up to Peter...the moment of Peter's fall...the Paradise lost...needed to be etched in Sylar's mind for an eternity. He always wished to remember this._

_Peter followed Sylar's gaze to his hands; his eyes widening in horror as his breathing grew even more belabored. The radioactive burn was becoming harder for him to control...he was such an emotional man, after all... and that's why Sylar had always known to keep emotions separate from powers. Cold logic kept one from being too vulnerable, as Peter was now realizing... for the more he panicked the more his emotions blazed out of all control. _

"_WAIT, NO!" Peter shouted, pushing past Sylar. Sylar gave a small inside nod to himself, he was no longer Peter's enemy. Peter was fighting himself now and he was loosing...his own darkness was too consuming to contain._

_Sylar pushed himself to his feet, never taking his gaze away from Peter's shuddering form, the young man's back hunching over in disbelief and anguish. Peter never believed the villain he would ultimately end up fighting would be himself. It was all so perfect...it had been just one misused power...one misplaced good intention...and Peter was the villain now._

_And what did that make Sylar? Sylar who had only tried to stop him..._

"_Turns out you're the villain, Peter." Sylar crowed, his eyes squinting slightly. Peter turned to him in absolute horror, hands raised as if trapped in some agonizing nightmare. Poor Peter Petrelli. Innocent boy...now a sinful man...Sylar quirked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. A small half-smile spread across his face, the blood shining upon his lips and teeth. "I'm the hero!"_

_For after all, Peter was about to kill millions. He would kill due to his own sinful nature...the darkness and the anger he had underestimated in himself. He had been so self-righteous and so proud that he had forgotten to guard sufficiently against his own inner anger._

_Peter was about to kill millions...and...well...Sylar had never done __that__._

_Sylar gave a self-satisfied smile. Strange thoughts were beginning to fill his mind...he wished to go to Peter now in strong, assertive strides...to mesh lips and taste Peter's distress and humiliation...to drink it up as both men's darkness poured into each other...open mouths like openings to their damned souls...thick hair tangling in bloodstained hands...blood pooling...smearing...down Peter's naked body...Sylar's blood, not Peter's...as both men felt hell's fire rising around them as the city became dust..._

_Peter turned to stare at Sylar...and there was something very new reflecting in those sharp, hazel eyes...something Sylar had not seen in Peter before until that moment._

_Innocent boy...gone forever. Peter hated now...Peter had never hated before, had always condemned the sin but loved the sinner. Peter had always been an eternal spring of forgiveness...willing to shed his own blood before he ever dared hurt others..._

_But Peter hated now. Peter hated Sylar._

_Good. It was proven then; even Peter could fall from grace._

_Peter had been so different...so beautiful...for such a short time in Sylar's life. But Peter hated now...he sinned now...innocent boy gone forever...good, Sylar was glad..._

_Peter looked back down at his hands, desperate to control the power. But once a man chose to serve the power...and not the Lord...the power dictated what happened next, not the man. The power decided everything, drove everything, demanded everything._

_The man simply submitted and allowed himself to burn._

_Oh, Peter. He still didn't understand Ted's power...he couldn't...he didn't have the calculating focus Sylar had. Peter felt and thought with his heart too much. The power exploded under such conditions, and Peter was fanning the flames higher and higher...every time he felt horror, and panic, and self-fear, and hatred towards Sylar...it rushed him towards the power's demanding completion._

_Innocent boy gone forever...that was what Sylar had wanted, of course. Blood smearing against walls...crimson handprints pressed against windows in utter ecstasy...trembling lips, so imperfect...so perfect...none of Sylar's tangling thoughts made any sense any longer. Peter hated Sylar now...Peter hating Sylar was such a beautiful feeling for reasons that seemed unexplainable._

"_Sylar!" Sylar turned at the sound of his name being called...it was Hiro...the stupid, silly little man from Isaac Mendez's prophetic comic book. Isaac had thought this man was to kill Sylar. Sylar and Peter both faced him now, and Sylar felt a dark rage and dread rush through him._

"_You." Sylar seethed. Hiro was not supposed to be here...he was ruining everything...Sylar wanted to __enjoy__ this...this was between Peter and Sylar, and it wasn't to be shared with anyone else._

_But it seemed that Hiro had a part to play tonight as well. _"_Yah!" Hiro cried out, charging at Sylar with his samurai sword drawn; like some eastern hero from the old black-and-white Asian matinee films little Gabriel Gray would watch as a child._

_So destiny had her say in the end, after all. Sylar couldn't run from the future anymore than Brian Davis could...or Chandra Suresh...or Mohinder...or Isaac Mendez...or Peter right now...Sylar was to die in the end. New York was to be destroyed...and Peter was to fall...and maybe they would all meet in hell someday...but right now, Sylar had to die._

"_I tried fighting the future__. It's too big for me. Maybe you can do better." Isaac Mendez had said, and Sylar knew that, like the painter within him, it was time to accept his fate._

_It was almost surreal to see...the sword slicing through bone and muscle, cutting through sinew and nerves. It moved through his chest before he felt it tear out through his back...it hurt, but the pain was far away, as if he were watching this happen rather than actually experiencing it. He wondered if that was how death always felt._

_Hiro held the sword inside of Sylar for only a moment, the short man's eyes filled with a dark determination. "Yatta!" He murmured in triumph, and only then did he release Sylar._

_Sylar staggered for only a moment, before falling to the ground. He had always imagined dying a martyr's death...hadn't he...?_

"_Hiro!" Another voice...it was Peter...oh, Peter...still trying to be so brave. Explode, Peter...stop fighting the future. Isaac had been right all along, it was too big for all of them; no one could do any better._

"_Peter Petrelli!" Hiro answered, hurrying over to the young man._

_Peter's face was wild with panic, the desperate words spilling from his lips, his whole body now being consumed by the brightening glow of the approaching explosion. "You can stop this!" He insisted, as if even now...moments from his undoing...he could still be a hero._

"_How?" Hiro demanded, uncertain._

_Sylar lifted his head, slightly. Oh, Peter...stop fighting it. Stop fighting it and give in._

"_I need you to kill me!" Peter insisted, the desperation breaking through in his dark, husky voice._

_Sylar felt his heart stop in his chest...it had nothing to do with his impending death and everything to do with Peter's words..._

_So even now he was selfless...superhuman...a hero..._

_But, no, Peter was mistaken. __Dying for your sins doesn't erase any of that darkness and anger within your soul, Peter__...and if Sylar was going to die tonight than Peter was damn sure going to live with the guilt and horror that Sylar had to live with for so long. Peter could inherit it. And Peter would embrace that anger...become cruel and cynical...innocent boy now a sinful man...and he could spend the rest of his life trying to atone for what he had done tonight. But man is weak and these powers were strong...he would never atone; he could only fall further._

_Tasting Peter's lips...the young man was so broken and weak and now he would submit to anything...even advances from the devil, Sylar was certain...tasting lips...tasting bodies...it tasted like hopelessness...agony...anger...oh, Peter could hurt Sylar all he liked...Peter could inflict pain upon him if it made Peter feel better, and he could hate Sylar...hate him...__hate me, please__..._

_Sylar flicked his wrist and sent Hiro flying away. Where he didn't care, and Hiro teleported away before he too could die. That was very unimportant at the moment though...seeing Peter gaze upon him one last time with burning, choking hatred was the only thing Sylar wished to see..._

_Peter's sharp hazel eyes were raging...disbelief, anger, pain...why would Sylar do that? Sylar was dying, why was it so important that all of New York die too? __Because, Peter, you're like me, aren't you? I know how it works now, your very angry inside. And you're terrified of what lives within you, just like you're terrified right now. You've been so good for so long...you've tried to hide it, you've tried to convince yourself that you aren't really a monster...but you are. You're just like me. I finally understand._

_They were like brothers...like some perverted version of Castor and Pollux...one seemingly flawed and the other godlike...but both forever condemned to walk the same path of cold winters in Hades..._

_Sylar gave Peter a ghost of a smile...he hoped Peter would hate him forever...__hate me, Peter, hate me__. He wished he could've tasted Peter just once before death...Peter pressed against the wall in Mohinder's apartment...so frightened and innocent...so untouched...completely at Sylar's mercy...their lips meshing together...blood pooling down Peter's forehead to his flushed face...both tasting it in their devouring mouths...oh, Peter...oh, Peter...hurt me...hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me..._

_His head fell to the cold pavement...Sylar had always been very strong-willed, but even he could no longer fight the dying of the light. His punishment could not be delayed any longer, and in one hellish moment he saw every terrible thing he had ever done pass before his eyes._

_All the murders...all the bloodshed...and his mother..._

_His mother...oh..._

_And Peter...no longer innocent...but hating him, forever hating him. Everything had been so pointless, all the powers, all the deaths, all the hungering...it had all been so pointless in the end. Except for Peter hating him...that would endure...that would live on._

_Sylar was going to hell now...he could almost hear the Devil's laughter ringing in his ears. As a child...he had often imagined the overwhelming beauty of the moment in which he could go home...home being heaven, of course...and he would finally be allowed to see God's face...and all would be revealed...everything understood...but no, no...he hadn't been able to wait. He hadn't been able to wait; he had wanted to know...to understand...now._

_Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had stopped serving God and had started serving the hunger of his powers. And now God was no more._

_Oh, Peter. The young man would live for now, with pain and regret, but the anger would only grow worse inside of him...the hunger to serve the powers would only intensify. God was no more for Peter either._

_And Peter and Sylar would burn together, someday._

_Peter Petrelli...innocent boy...nevermore..._

_Nevermore. Even in the present...even in loving Gabriel...__hate me, hate me, hate me__...Peter's innocence was gone, the fear of what laid inside of him always threatening to spill over. He was trying to use his powers to serve the Lord once more, but he was still so afraid of all of the times that Sylar had shown him the perverse ways in which they could be used instead. And Peter had already succumbed to such ways before...he knew now that it was simply one misused power...one misplaced good intention...and God was no more._

_Oh, even in loving Gabriel the innocence was still dashed._

_Hurt me._

_Hate me._

_Innocent boy...nevermore. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When Gabriel looked at Peter it reminded him that he was now good..._but that he had once been bad..._and Gabriel often imagined that when Peter looked at him it reminded the young man of how much he loved Gabriel..._but that at one time he hated Gabriel_.

Was it always to be some cruel, vicious cycle? Gabriel and Peter were so bad for each other..._but felt so good and right together..._they were in constant danger of tearing down the other person..._all while providing needed healing_.

Their relationship was a continuous contradiction. For Gabriel, there had never been a choice if he should be with Peter..._Peter was the only one he ever loved, it had always been Peter..._and for Peter, Gabriel represented the man who understood everything Peter had struggled with..._living with the powers, failing, trying again..._Gabriel was also a man that Peter had managed to save during his three year trial..._proof that Peter was still good, could still forgive, could still connect and love._

Were Peter and Gabriel together because they were afraid to try and find anyone else, their heavy baggage only able to rest in the arms of the other? That wasn't the case for Gabriel..._he only ever loved Peter, it had always been Peter..._but Gabriel imagined that Peter would never have loved Gabriel if it hadn't been for the fact that only Gabriel could understand even half of where Peter was coming from..._Peter could get angry in front of Gabriel, he could lose his temper in front of Gabriel...and Gabriel would never judge him for it, would allow him these releases...Peter could be secure in his goodness around Gabriel while still being human._

These thoughts all swirled in Gabriel's mind as he watched Peter sleep..._his face angelic as his long, dark lashes fluttered softly against his cheeks. _His chest was still bare and his head was gently propped up beneath Gabriel's long arm. Peter's breathing was slow and rested, his thick, dark locks gently caressing his face, the stubble on his chin dark and rough from a few days of not shaving.

Gabriel gave a small smile..._if loving Peter was wrong, than indeed, he never wished to be right_. Although his dreams seemed determined to forever haunt him of the dark, perverse times within their relationship, Gabriel tried to hang onto the silver lining behind all of it..._that it was always Peter. It was always Peter, no matter what_.

Peter stirred beneath Gabriel's arm, moving over on his side and draping a lazy arm across Gabriel's taut stomach. It felt so _good _waking up most mornings to Peter's warm body pressed flesh against Gabriel's..._and it was especially nice that today was Saturday...Gabriel didn't have to go to his bookstore today, and although Peter did work some weekends, he didn't have to go in to the hospital today. It could be a very lazy morning, and those were Gabriel's favorites._

Gabriel watched Peter intensely..._the young man was so beautiful, so intensely erotic even in slumber, the way his full lips parted and gave out little puffs of heated air. _He wanted to kiss Peter, but at the same time he didn't wish to wake him. Gabriel subconsciously traced gentle fingers over Peter's forehead, down his nose, and over his top lip before skimming down to trace his bottom lip.

Although Gabriel's dream reminded him of the time when he had thought that Peter was just like him..._dark and angry..._ in reality Peter truly was the saint that Gabriel was determined to prove that he wasn't. Peter seemed to be filled with almost boundless goodness...mercy, love, gentleness, sincerity. Yes, Peter _was _human and flawed, but Gabriel was glad he had found someone who was arguably the gentlest heart in the world. It was what Gabriel needed to ground himself, to _know _he was always walking the right path..._if Peter thought Gabriel was being good, than he most definitely was. _After three years of trying to prove that Peter was the villain...Peter was Gabriel's hero.

Gabriel lowered his lips to Peter's ear. In the softest whisper he could manage, he murmured, "_I love you, Peter._" He pressed his forehead down into the pillow; feeling Peter's warmth radiating next to him. It felt so good to say...and it was safe to say, safe because Peter never heard him say it...so that if Peter ever..._if Peter ever left, it would be easier for Gabriel to lie to himself about everything. _Well, that didn't matter right now; it felt nice to say anyway.

Around fifteen minutes later, Peter began to stir, his eyes blinking repeatedly as he gave a loud yawn. His arms reached over his head as his back arched off the bed.

Gabriel turned over on his side, giving Peter a small smile in greeting. He played his fingers down the accentuated, lean muscle of Peter's chest. "Good morning, Peter."

"Mmmm." Peter gave a little lopsided smile too, turning on his side as well to face the other man. "Mornin'."

Peter pressed his nose up to Gabriel's cheek and gave a small chuckle; his hot breath puffing out against the other man's face. Gabriel encircled his arms around Peter and they laid in sleepy silence for a few moments.

"I dreamt about you last night." Gabriel murmured, letting his long fingers slide lazily down the length of Peter's back. He didn't know why he mentioned that exactly, only that this past dream hadn't been as terrifying as the others..._it had been the start of all the times to follow that Peter would begin to plague his mind with confusing, sensual images for the next three years. _Still, he slightly regretted his words as Peter gave a carefree grin, bringing a hand up to drag across the stubble on Gabriel's chin.

"Tell me." Peter whispered, his voice still rough and husky from just awakening.

Gabriel took in a soft breath..._he hated lying to Peter, but it seemed as if he always did whenever him and Peter spoke of intimate things...fantasies, dreams, anything that required Gabriel to pull deep from within. Plus, the dream was from the past and Peter was very clear about his wishes regarding speaking about the past. _Instead, he let out a small chuckle as if remembering something wonderful. "It was a reenactment of last night..."

Peter gave a soft grunt, his fingers sliding behind Gabriel's neck to pull his lips softly into the younger man's. When he released him, he rubbed his nose softly against Gabriel's. "Lucky." He murmured, gazing up into Gabriel's deep brown eyes. "Last night was amazing...you were _so _attentive. My god, Gabriel, I'm still warm all over from it..."

Gabriel felt slightly confused as he allowed Peter to draw his lips back down over the young man's mouth. He hadn't realized he _had _been any more attentive than usual to Peter. On the contrary, he had been rough and demanding, pushing Peter beneath him and then pounding into him until both were spent. He made a mental note to _actually _replay all the elements from the night before in order to use it as a reference in future lovemaking.

As Gabriel pulled away slightly, he pursed his lips slightly in thought. "Last night was amazing. You're always so expressive...I like that. I wish I could...be like that."

Peter quirked his lips at Gabriel as he continued to gently caress the other man's face. "You're fine the way you are. I know...I know what you're feeling. It's that _look_ you get in your eyes right before we're together. It's when you kiss me so hard I can barely breathe. Believe me, I know."

Gabriel felt his smile widen at Peter's words. "Peter, you're so kind." He admitted, bringing his hands up to rush into the young man's thick mess of hair. "But I do love the way you just seem so _free_. You're not afraid to be in love, are you?"

"Of course I am." Peter scoffed, rounding his finger up around Gabriel's ear. "I get scared just like anybody, Gabriel."

"But when we're intimate...you're so expressive. You're not afraid to be vulnerable at all. You have such a gentle heart, Peter, but you don't guard it when we're together. I hear _everything _you're feeling. It's as if I'm feeling what you feel too, because every sound, every facial expression pours over onto me." Gabriel murmured against Peter's warm skin, as he softly kissed the top of the young man's forehead.

Peter's soft gaze shifted towards his feet, and Gabriel could see the light blush that settled on his features. "I dunno, Gabriel. I don't really _think_ about it, when we're making love I just..." Peter gave a small shrug, his eyes lifting again to Gabriel's face. "It just happens."

"I'm glad." Gabriel whispered, watching Peter intently now. After a moment's hesitation he added, "You get scared too, huh?"

Peter gave a small nod. "Yeah, and you wanna know somethin' funny? I'm even more scared now after last night."

Gabriel cocked his head to the side in curiosity. "Why?"

"Because..." Peter once again shifted his eyes away..._this meant he was saying something profoundly from the heart...Peter was still so shy...Gabriel hoped that never went away, not even after all the familiarity in the world. _"Because, last night changed something for me. I feel..._even _closer, to you, Gabriel...and that scares me. But it's a good scary." He gave a small squint of his eyes as his fingers gently brushed the taller man's lips. "It's always a good scary."

_Last night changed something...what happened last night? Yes, it had been wonderful...Peter had been beautiful, breathtaking...it had been a passionate, delicious whirlwind of lovemaking...but had it truly been that different from all their other times together? What had Gabriel done different...__better__...this time that he hadn't before?_

"Hmmm." Gabriel murmured, giving a small nod.

"What about you?" Peter gave his sweet lopsided grin, his head moving to rest on Gabriel's broad shoulder. "You ever scared about all this..._us_...?"

Gabriel gave a rough chuckle..._more than Peter ever knew. And it wasn't always a good scary, sometimes it was a very bad scary. Sometimes it was a certainty that Peter would still leave, or someone...or something...would separate them once more. Sometimes it was a scary that told him that he __still__ didn't deserve love, the good deeds that he did now not nearly enough to tip the scale into balance after all the evil he had done._

"No." He finally settled on saying as he grabbed Peter's wrist rather roughly in his hand and drew it up to his lips. He delighted in the small shiver he felt rush down the young man's spine. "No, you're not going anywhere, Peter. You're stuck with me."

"What a sweet thing to say..." 'Peter retorted, dryly, but Gabriel simply silenced him with a punishing kiss; yanking the young man's wrist forward so that the his lips could smash deeply against the Gabriel's.

"But there still is one thing that I need to know about you." Gabriel added, Peter's wrist still firmly held in his grasp. "What's with seeming so sweet and innocent all the time, but then being a dirty, little sexpot in bed?"

_That wasn't entirely true. While a different side of Peter did emerge during lovemaking, he was perpetually sweet. But what fun was that to say...the way Peter's eyes widened and his lips quirked in surprise was much more entertaining to watch._

Peter gave a rough laugh and attempted to playfully hit Gabriel with his free hand. But Gabriel easily caught that wrist too and using the leverage he now had, he effectively pulled the young man up onto his long, prostrate form so that Peter was resting on top of him.

Peter dipped his head down to softly bite the skin on Gabriel's neck. Gabriel released a soft moan, his arms encircling around Peter's back.

Peter lifted his head again, his bright, hazel eyes wide and playful. "You know, Gabriel, we still haven't eaten that ice cream that you bought yesterday."

Gabriel gaze a lazy smile, his dark hair falling down messily as he gave his head a small shake. "What are you saying, Peter?"

"I'm _saying_..." Peter began, bringing his face closer to Gabriel's..._his warm breath feeling soft and enticing against the other man's skin. _Peter appeared as if he were about to propose the most sordid fantasy on Earth. "I'm saying; let's have ice cream...for _breakfast_."

"_Peter_..." Gabriel scolded, giving a teasing smack to Peter's hip. "That's so bad."

"I know." Peter agreed, giving Gabriel a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. Gabriel's eyes widened appreciatively as Peter slipped out of bed..._he was still naked from last night and he still smelled like Gabriel, his bare back and legs favorably on display. _"Now get out of bed and shower with me."

"Well, someone's frisky this morning." Gabriel replied quickly, but he was already pushing his own naked form out of bed, his long legs swinging around for his feet to touch the cool floorboards. After a moment's thought, however, he felt he honestly needed to know whether Peter had been teasing him or not. "Peter..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Peter, are we _really _having ice cream for breakfast?"

Peter turned to him, unable to hide his smile at Gabriel's earnest words. He arched his eyebrow teasingly as he sweetly bit at his bottom lip. "Of _course_. I'm feelin' frisky this mornin', right?" He then gave Gabriel a quick slap on the elbow before turning and sauntering towards the shower. "Now c'mon, we're gonna be really bad and waste water today too."

Gabriel gave a soft laugh, but he hurriedly fell in step behind Peter. He had never had ice cream for breakfast before..._it was promising to be an exciting day..._and he hoped someday all the bad scary could just go away..._because right now he desperately wanted to tell Peter how much he loved him._

It was some thirty minutes later as Gabriel stood by the counter with an ice cream scooper, giving both himself and Peter generous portions for their breakfast. It was as if Gabriel was finally acting out some unachievable childhood fantasy and it delighted him. Showering with Peter had been a decidedly pleasant experience, as it always was. There had been no need for actual intimacy to take place, both simply content to enjoy the deep connection that was brought on by scrubbing each other's bodies with warm soap suds before helping the other to rinse in hot, comforting water; hands touching wet chests and lean muscle; fingers tangled in soapy, thick messes of dark hair.

Peter enjoyed the classics; his ice cream was the vanilla with only a light dusting of sprinkles. But Gabriel was being quite generous with both the chocolate syrup and sprinkles on his ice cream...he was taking full advantage of the situation, after all.

Peter was still in the bedroom, clad only in the white towel that wrapped around his sturdy waist. He was rooting around for some clean clothes; apparently neither man had taken the needed interest in making sure laundry was done throughout the week.

"You know, Peter, if you don't have any clean clothes you can always just come out here in your towel." Gabriel shrugged, a wicked grin painting his features as he continued to give a few extra squirts of chocolate syrup. "I don't mind."

"Yeah, you probably hid all my clothes, didn't you?" Peter called, and Gabriel cast a glance in his direction and eagerly watched as small drops of water continued to snake down the lean muscles of Peter's back. He hadn't hid Peter's clothes, of course..._but it was a good idea_.

Gabriel gave a few extra dashes of sprinkles..._sprinkles were possibly the best part; the colorful confections adding to the presentation of the dessert_. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden insistent ringing of Peter's telephone.

"Peter, phone!" Gabriel called, but he noticed that Peter had retreated into the bathroom connected to his bedroom. He pursed his lips for a moment, wondering if he should just answer it. _Why not, after all, he practically __lived__ with Peter these days. Peter was Gabriel's partner in all sense of the word, and why not be able to do little ordinary tasks for Peter when the young man was unable to?_

Assured of his privilege to answer for Peter, Gabriel picked up the phone to speak into it..._Petrelli residence. No, this is Gabriel, his lover. _Gabriel gave a small, mischievous grin. _Of course, he wouldn't actually say that but it was fun to think. _With a silent chuckle, he held the receiver up to his ear.

Before Gabriel could even open his mouth, however, he felt the phone jerk out of his hand. He swerved around, eyes widening in surprise to see Peter call it quickly to him using telekinesis. Peter grabbed the receiver up to his ear, his hazel eyes no longer gentle...indeed, they were flashing with angry warning. He marched up to Gabriel purposefully, gripping onto the latter's wrist roughly while lifting his index finger to his lips to insist silence.

Gabriel felt a defensive anger begin to bristle within his chest; heated vulnerability burning at his flushed face. What the hell was Peter's problem? Gabriel was trying to do Peter a favor and he was very hurt and confused as to why the young man had reacted in such an angry manner.

"Hey, Ma!" Peter greeted, and Gabriel felt an icy coldness begin to seep into his skin.

_It was her...Angela. She thought she still was the most important person in Peter's life and it annoyed Gabriel to no end. She was wrong though, Peter was Gabriel's...Peter belonged to Gabriel now and she was powerless to do anything about that._

"No, no everything's fine, I just had my hands full for a minute." Peter continued..._lies, lies, lies...sweet, honest Peter always lied to his mother about Gabriel, though._ "You...you want me to come over? Today? Um...no. No, I don't go in to the hospital today. Yeah, of course. I'll be there. I'll come to your place. Sure. I love you too, Ma. Bye."

_Gabriel felt the iciness continue to numb his senses. Peter would be spending the day with her. It wasn't fair; Peter was supposed to be spending the day with Gabriel. Peter spent all his time at the hospital, and now he was going to his mother's. That wasn't right, Peter was Gabriel's...Gabriel's to have...to own...why did she still think she was the most important?_

Peter clicked the phone off and gave a deep sigh. He placed it back down, running fingers anxiously through his hair. _He was upset, but he always held it in_. _Maybe he thought Gabriel couldn't handle it. _Peter finally swept his gaze back over to the other man's, wrapping the towel around himself more firmly. "I'm...I'm sorry, man. But I haven't seen her in awhile and..."

"What was all that about?" Gabriel snapped, the bitterness still piercing at his insides. _He felt waves of defensive irritation billow over him; culminating roughly in his core. He had only been trying to help Peter after all...had anything he done truly warranted the reaction that he received from Peter?_

Peter gave a small, apologetic shrug. "Look, you know why you can't be answerin' my phone, man..."

_Gabriel wasn't allowed...why?_

"Why?" Gabriel snapped, bringing his arms up to hug around himself. There was a small voice beginning to mock him in his head..._lest he forget the truth of the world he live in_...and it was making Gabriel feel very foolish and small.

Peter hesitated, giving a small shake of his head. "You _know _why. People can't know, Gabriel, what if my mom heard you? You know you're not supposed to answer it."

_People can't know...about what? About Gabriel? Gabriel couldn't even answer the phone...was it that Peter didn't want any of the insinuations that might come of such an action? Was Peter really that ashamed of Gabriel...was Peter that ashamed of himself?_

_The painting of the situation was becoming all the clearer, as if Gabriel was seeing it in his mind's eye before any of the colors could even cement themselves on the canvas. Oh, Peter did see things differently than Gabriel...Gabriel was just in denial once more._

"No, no, of course I can't answer it. But I can make you _your _dinner and keep _your _bed warm at night, can't I?" Gabriel hissed, backing away from Peter subconsciously, as he spread his arms wide in mock understanding. "Because no one will know about that. That won't ruin the whole fun, secret little world we've created..."

_Peter loved Gabriel...but the taller man was also a reminder that Peter once hated him as well. And there were still so many others that hated Gabriel...people that Peter deeply loved...and it was in this reality that Gabriel was forever to be the hushed, dirty little secret._

Peter gave a heavy, frustrated sigh. Defensive anger was building in him as well..._but that's what Gabriel wanted. He wanted to get a rise out of Peter; it was better than sweeping it all under the rug and pretending it wasn't happening. _"Look, Gabriel..." Peter gestured helplessly towards the taller man. "You know _why_ we can't tell her about this."

"Or anyone else, right?" Gabriel replied..._it would've been worse if he already said I love you, the realization being that Gabriel wouldn't be allowed to say it in public. That would've been much worse_. "I'm the dirty little secret. As long as I'm a secret, what we do...what _you _do with me...isn't entirely real yet, is it?"

"Of course it's real!" Peter snapped, his voice growing raspier as he took several steps towards Gabriel again. Gabriel felt the heat roiling off of Peter's tensing form. "Don't do this to me, man. You know why it has to be this way. So, please..." He reached out to grab Gabriel's arm, but the latter pulled it away from Peter's soft touch. Peter narrowed his eyes slightly, but pushed on. "_Please_...don't do this right now. I'm..." Peter blinked quickly, but his jaw tightened in resolve. "I'm tired. I worked a lot this week. And I don't...I don't wanna go over this with you..." There was a long pause..._Gabriel knew that look, it was when Peter was afraid he was being selfish. _"...I don't wanna go over this with you _again_."

_Peter blinked away quickly, yes he was afraid his words were selfish, his empathetic nature siding with Gabriel's need for discussion rather than his own weariness. But Peter finished the sentence anyway...a sixty hour work week could apparently have that effect on a person...and Gabriel was glad. Sometimes Peter was __too__ selfless, and it didn't allow Gabriel for self-reflection. Peter was simply speaking his needs now and it gave Gabriel a moment to pause. Maybe the time wasn't now to discuss this...Gabriel's discontent did not dissipate, but he relented. And Peter looked so tired, so sad that it seemed only fair to do so._

Gabriel gave a small shrug, his eyes darting away from Peter's. "I...I got us ice cream. If –if you still have time to eat with me, that is."

Peter gave a small nod, he outstretched his arm again, and this time Gabriel allowed the young man's touch to tenderly stroke his arm. "Yeah, thank you. Really, I'm sorry I can't stay the whole day. But _you're_ welcome to stay..."

"And do _your _laundry for you?" Gabriel retorted, darkly. _He was ready to drop the argument, but not quite ready to relinquish his sarcasm...after all, it was a well-practiced shield that could hide even the slightest vulnerabilities. _

Peter's face fell again, a small frown quirking his lips. "_No_. I was gonna say that you can stay if you want. I'll be back later this afternoon."

_Back to the secret world after a brief foray into the real world._

"Alright." Gabriel shrugged, offering the bowl of ice cream he had prepared for Peter. _It was uncomplicated...simply vanilla...there were a few upsetting sprinkles dashed in here and there, but Gabriel had tried to keep it as unfussy as possible...just as Peter liked it._

"This is great." Peter murmured..._he was extending an olive branch; just like he always did. Peter was always giving out inexplicable acts of forgiveness as if it were the most natural thing in the world. _"You know exactly how I like my ice cream."

"Of course, Peter." Gabriel gave a tightlipped smile as he followed Peter to the kitchen table..._the table they had laid upon only last night, panting promises of love and connection, joining their bodies in shared exaltation. _"I know a lot about you...sweet, honest Peter."

Peter's grip tightened around the spoon he had just picked up. He gave a dark scowl, his face turning towards Gabriel's. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Gabriel gave a small, falsely innocent shrug, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. It was good, but somehow the sweetness was overshadowed by the bitter taste of the bile that seemed to be seeping into him as well. "Nothing. You _are _sweet and honest, aren't you?"

Peter gave a heavy sigh, taking a small bite of ice cream as well. "Stop saying it like that. I know you don't like me lying about you, but what other choice do I have right now? I wish things were different _too_, you know."

_Sweet, innocent Peter. Always __his__ sweet, innocent Peter and he didn't want to share that with anyone. Not with Angela, not with Claire, not with anyone Peter might have known before him. Why did Gabriel have to live in the secret world while they all lived in the real world...in a world where Peter acknowledged them freely? Wasn't Gabriel the most important person in Peter's life...the most special?_

_Or was Peter simply the most important person in Gabriel's life? Maybe not much had changed...Sylar might've chased Peter around for three years for powers, for him to fall, for redemption...for the young man's __love__...but Peter had always run away from Sylar until Peter realized...well, what had changed for Peter anyway? How had Gabriel made their love any different...any better...any more special than before?_

"What do you mean, you wish things were different?" Gabriel made a face of mock sincerity, licking his spoon carefully as he arched an eyebrow. "Everything's great the way it is...I mean, weren't we just saying that this morning? You and I have gotten so close. We can share everything...feelings, thoughts...but, _oh, _right..." Gabriel gave a small, mirthless smile. "I just can't answer your phone. I guess the super closeness must stop there..."

"Stop it." Peter insisted, and he moved his hand across the table to grab onto Gabriel's with more force than was necessary. "Just stop. This is...this is hard enough, don't you realize that? It's hard enough without you _mocking _me."

"How could I mock you?" Gabriel wondered, but even he could hear the patronizing tone echoing in his voice. "You're my sweet, honest Peter...I mean, you never _lie_..."

"Stop it!" Peter snapped, and his hand retreated quickly from Gabriel's. _Gabriel was pushing it...even sweet Peter had a limit...and Gabriel was fast brushing up against it. He knew angry Peter just as well as sweet Peter...but maybe he wanted to see angry Peter right now. After all, Gabriel was angry...angry at Peter, so furious at the young man for making him feel this way after how close they were feeling this morning...and he wanted Peter to feel angry just like Gabriel did now._

Gabriel placed the spoon in his mouth again, purposefully twisting it around his tongue sensuously. He stared right into Peter's eyes, a punishing grin painting his face. "...you wouldn't scream my name on this table during the night...and then talk to your mother the next morning..."

Peter clenched his jaw tightly, his lips pursed as his eyes flashed warning. There was a betrayal there..._Gabriel was using Peter's open vulnerability during lovemaking against him..._

_But Gabriel knew all the hurtful buttons to push...it was why he and Peter were perfect for each other; they had enough ammunition to last them a lifetime. After all, isn't that what a relationship was? Seeing who could hit the hardest while knowing that both were too messed up to ever be able to leave the boxing ring?_

"You remember last night, Peter? You wanted it so bad, and I gave it to you..." Gabriel gave a rough chuckle and a small shake of his head. His face then sobered as he dropped his voice to a whisper, "What would mommy think?"

"Gabriel, I swear...!" Peter shouted, and he slammed his fist on the table with a thud, his other fist clenching by his side. Gabriel pressed his lips closed as he fell silent..._there was no need to push Peter any further...getting the reaction he desired was never as satisfying as it seemed it would be in his mind's eye._

Peter's bright eyes flashed down towards his clenched fist and he blinked at it heavily..._Peter's words from a few days ago rushed back into Gabriel's ears. Peter didn't want to be that angry man with Gabriel any longer...Gabriel knew that Peter wouldn't actually hit him now, the clenching of his fist merely a reaction rather than an intention to do harm. But Gabriel knew that all the times Peter __had__ used that fist to cause Gabriel pain was rushing through the young man's mind. Sweet Peter...those memories hurt the young man greatly now. That was Gabriel's fault; Peter shouldn't feel guilt over any punches he had ever dealt the taller man. Gabriel had deserved all of them...indeed, welcomed all of them..._

Gabriel felt a sick dread enter him with every inward breath he took. He gave a heavy swallow, his eyes darting down towards the table. _That was wrong...what he had said to Peter just now had been so wrong. He had betrayed Peter's trust, using little intimate details against him, and Gabriel didn't want to lose any of the...openness that Peter had been granting him. What the hell was wrong with Gabriel, anyway? Yes, he knew how to hurt Peter, he always had, but it always left a bitter taste in his mouth. Peter should've hit him just now, at least it would've made Gabriel feel a little better._

"I'm...I'm sorry, Peter." Gabriel whispered, his face flushing with guilt.

Peter gave a small shake of his head, his hand unclenching to rush through dark, messy hair. "No...no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't..._ah_..." He growled, forcing his lips back together.

"You can yell at me." Gabriel insisted, the dark thoughts pressing against his psyche. _Yell at me if it makes you feel better, hurt me if it makes you feel better...but hating...no...no, never hate me again. Love me, love me, love me, but do to me whatever you need to do in order to love._

Peter lowered his hands to press against his eyes. They were slightly glassy, and Gabriel cursed himself for his desire to ever wish to bring out the anger in Peter. Good, kind, forgiving Peter...good god, what was wrong with Gabriel?

_Gabriel's dream...the memory of trying to pull the dark anger out of Peter so that he would explode...whispered uncomfortably against Gabriel's mind. This was dangerously playing with the same concept, and Gabriel didn't like that. Peter __was__ good and Gabriel delighted in that. Because now, rather than wishing for Peter to be a villain just like Gabriel, the latter wanted to be a hero just like Peter. And more than that...more than anything...Gabriel didn't want to see Peter in pain. Because Gabriel loved Peter, whether he could say the words or not, the love was real...it was the only reason Gabriel kept saying hurtful things anyway...because he loved Peter so much that he couldn't stop hurting him._

Gabriel reached over to gently take Peter's wrists into his large, encompassing hands. "Never mind me, Peter. I just don't like sharing you..." He choked on his words; they were hitting a bit too deeply to be properly elaborated on. He pulled Peter's face close to his lips..._beautiful Peter, his long eyelashes were damp from tears that had never fallen..._Gabriel's soft, full lips pressed to the wetness with tender urgency. His murmuring lips moved from cheek to cheek...consuming the tears as if they never existed..._he didn't want to be the cause of Peter's tears. _No, he would kiss them away...kiss them away until he felt that precious boyish smile he so delighted in seeing.

Peter gave a soft grunt, allowing Gabriel to finish sweeping away the last of the wetness with soft, determined lips. Peter gave a heavy sigh, tipping his head back. His cheeks were still a little wet, but from the warm passions of Gabriel's lips, not from any hidden tears. Peter bravely swiped at his eyes..._emotional as he was, Peter was not one to be caught crying_.

"I'll be back later this evening." Peter insisted..._but that wasn't the real issue and Gabriel wondered if Peter would ever realize that. The real issue was that it was back to secret world...back to secret Gabriel who lived secretly in Peter's apartment for Peter's secret comfort...but Gabriel remained silent. _"I'll be back, and I don't want you to do anything today. Don't do any laundry, don't make dinner, don't do anything. Do whatever you wanna do and _enjoy _your day off. Okay?"

"I will." Gabriel murmured, forcing a small smile for Peter. _He wondered briefly if he should go back to his own apartment...he had hardly been there all week...but he decided that it might seem as if he were still angry at Peter, and he didn't want Peter to feel that way_. "Don't worry about me, Peter. I'm going to read my book, I think. It's very good, and I've been meaning to finish it."

Gabriel knew his words were spilling out of his mouth a bit too earnestly, but Peter seemed to accept his intent.

Peter pressed forgiving lips to Gabriel's..._it still tasted bitter, but Gabriel accepted it. Sweet, kind Peter would only kiss selfish, fallen Gabriel if no one else could ever know about it. Gabriel supposed that was how it had to work._

"You know I care about you." Peter insisted, giving Gabriel's face a light touch with his hand. "You _know _that."

"Of course, Peter." Gabriel nodded, pushing more ice cream into his mouth..._it was numb, just like his insides at the moment_. "I'll see you later."

Peter's eyes..._sharp, bright, hazel eyes..._still shone with hurt. Gabriel's words were cutting, but while Gabriel felt sorry for that, he was still angry. He was angry as Peter gave a small nod and pressed firm lips once more to the taller man in parting. _Gabriel remained still...he didn't wish to be kissed at the moment. Peter had hurt him __too__, after all, and he wanted the young man to leave him alone...he didn't want for his touch._

When Peter pulled away he gave a sheepish grin. "Can I borrow some of your spare clothes?" His eyes darted away; he seemed to realize the danger in this statement. He gave a small swallow as he continued, "I...I don't have any clean clothes today."

_But Gabriel didn't mind, on the contrary, it would be a nice outcome...Peter secretly having Gabriel's clothes pressed against his bare skin as he innocently conversed with his mother. It would be as if Gabriel was encompassing the warm body of Angela's son even as she remained blissfully unaware of the former's presence. _"I put them in the bottom drawer."

"Thank you." Peter murmured, touching Gabriel's face once more before retreating into the bedroom to get dressed.

Gabriel shoved the last spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and gave a heavy swallow. _It gave a cold burn as it slid down his throat_. _Angela would be with Peter today...but she didn't know anything about her little boy anymore. She didn't know that he lied to her constantly...she didn't know that he didn't spend time with her so that he could be with Gabriel...she didn't know that he was screaming Gabriel's name at night or that Gabriel was touching him all over...she still thought he was just her Peter. But he wasn't, he was Gabriel's Peter now. She might not know that, but it didn't make it any less true. Peter might never wish to tell her...because Peter was ashamed of Gabriel, of himself...but it was all still true. Maybe it was more fun that way, her seeing Peter this morning and not knowing any of the terribly beautiful things Gabriel had done to his body last night. Her seeing Peter and not knowing that Gabriel owned a large part of his heart. Maybe it was fun that way...but it didn't seem as if it were. No, instead, Gabriel just felt cheap.. No matter what Gabriel tried to make of his life now, he would forever be condemned by hypocrites like Angela. He tried to pretend he didn't care...after all, she didn't know anything about her little Peter these days...but he knew that he was just lying to himself. He cared very much...and he wanted to be Peter's real world...his only world...and it made him unbearably angry that he wasn't._

Gabriel lifted his head to see Peter exiting the bedroom, his fingers moving to the last of the buttons on Gabriel's blue shirt. He gave a small nod in Gabriel's direction as he headed towards the door, a ghost of a smile whispering his face as a means to be reassuring.

Gabriel didn't return the smile, he simply watched as Peter closed the apartment door behind him. _Stupid Peter...stupid Gabriel...stupid, messed up boys_.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Gabriel turned and punched his fist into the wall. _CRACK! _Blood trickled down his hand as he hastily withdrew it; his eyes widening as he noticed the dent he had placed in the drywall.

_He'd have to fix that before Peter came back...this was Peter's __home__ after all, not just something Gabriel could break when he needed to cool his temper_.

His hand immediately began to heal, but for a moment, Gabriel wished it had been the wall that could heal instead. _He wanted to bleed_.

_Stupid Peter...stupid Gabriel...stupid, messed up boys_. Gabriel had just said he loved Peter's vulnerable expressiveness in bed...the way he let go with such trusting abandon. Why would he then use that against Peter? Would he really take that aspect of their lovemaking and add it to the never-ending arsenal he kept on hand just in case Peter ever made Gabriel feel slightly exposed in their relationship? _Well, Gabriel could always hurt Peter first! _Was that it?

Gabriel rushed his palm over the dented drywall...his eyes narrowing at the prospect. He wondered, briefly, if he had any powers that might be used to fix it.

He wasn't going to waste too much time feeling guilty. Peter started it, hadn't he? He was the one acting as if Gabriel were some shameful secret that could never exist outside of the dark shadows of his apartment walls. How was _that _supposed to make Gabriel feel? How would that make any normal person feel?

_But neither Gabriel nor Peter was normal...they never had been...they were __special__, weren't they? Isn't that what both had craved so desperately? Well, both were indeed special, and now they had to deal with all the broken promises such a life held for them._

And then there was Angela..._Gabriel felt his fists clench at his side once more_...Angela was like some foreboding Angel of Death that always threatened him these days. He hated her..._he feared her_...and she had already left such terrible scars on him with her inconceivable notions that she had the power..._the right_...to manipulate, to hurt, to maim, to destroy souls...

_She had destroyed so much for him...she could destroy what he had with Peter._ If he was being completely honest, he'd admit that he had destroyed some very precious things of hers as well..._but isn't that what their relationship was? Both had hurt, both had destroyed...maybe if he could just __talk __to her she would see that. But no, Peter wouldn't let him. Peter was protecting her...protecting her from ever needing to deal with Gabriel again._

This was an upsetting thought, and Gabriel wrapped his arms around himself for comfort as he leaned back up against the wall he had punched earlier. His hand felt fine once more_...but the wall was still broken_...that seemed so backwards.

_Stupid Peter...stupid Gabriel...stupid, messed up boys_. What would Gabriel ever do if Angela tried to take Peter away from him? _He'd kill her..._no, he wouldn't, he'd never kill again. He never _wanted _to kill again...that was a certainty that burned in his core. Peter had saved him, and he'd never let Peter's sacrifice and forgiveness go to waste. Gabriel would never let it go to waste for _his _sake as well...the path he had once walked led only to brokenness and Gabriel didn't want to be broken any longer. _But what if_...his mind plagued him..._what if Angela took him away? She'd find out about Gabriel someday...that was inevitable. Angela was smart and dangerous...Peter always underestimated the dangerous knowledge his mother held. If she ever took Peter away, what would Gabriel do?_

Peter wouldn't _go_ away, because he loved Gabriel. He loved Gabriel _more _than he ever could or ever did love Angela..._didn't he_? Because despite everything Gabriel _had _done to Peter, Gabriel had never lied to Peter...never manipulated Peter's life...never kept dark secrets from Peter. Angela had done all of that, and Peter knew these things. Peter would never choose Angela over Gabriel..._would he?_

_No he wouldn't. No matter how much Gabriel hurt Peter, Peter loved him more than he ever loved Angela. Yes, Peter and Gabriel hurt each other...but isn't that what relationships were all about? Tearing each other a part so that both were too broken and too damaged for anyone else to ever love again? Only Peter could ever love Gabriel...and if Gabriel kept hurting Peter, kept stabbing at his heart, kept tearing open old wounds and letting them bleed out...maybe soon it would be obvious that only Gabriel could love Peter._

Gabriel let out a choked sob, raising a hand to press to his wet eyes. _That wasn't what he wanted for them. _But maybe it was all he could give...all he had ever been able to give. Peter was ashamed that he loved Gabriel, wasn't he? So ashamed that no one could ever know about _this_...like it was some dirty tryst rather than a loving, stable relationship.

Gabriel didn't know how to love..._if he was to understand his dreams, his old memories, he would know that his idea of love was trying to kill someone until you realized that you __couldn't_. _Hurting Peter physically had always been Gabriel's way of loving him back then...was there any real difference now that it was just emotional damage? Wasn't that still love? It meant that you cared enough __to__ hurt someone, didn't it?_

_Stupid Peter...stupid Gabriel...stupid, messed up boys_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for all of your wonderful feedback! It definitely keeps me inspired to know that people are enjoying this story. There have been so many kind words, and I definitely appreciate it!**

**Chapter 10**

_He allowed his memories to take hold of him once more. Like a drug addict, he kept reaching for the memories that were only sure to lead to his destruction eventually. The present was all that really mattered; didn't Peter keep telling him that? But Peter had left, he had left Gabriel all alone today, so Gabriel went back to a familiar way to comfort himself, clinging to his old memories that told him that Peter had __always__ been his, even during the dark days._

_Sylar had been wandering the desert like a lost soul roaming in the afterlife. He hadn't the faintest idea of how many days had already passed. His stomach panged with hunger...his parched lips were crying out with thirst...he was so desperate...needing. He had thought himself dead after Hiro's blade had pierced him through, and hadn't it been destiny he fall dead that cold night in Kirby Plaza? But no, he had lived, surely by some depraved force of fortune at work. He had awakened to find himself in the care of a strange girl named Candace, or Michelle; he still wasn't sure who she had really been. She had nursed him back to health and then seemed to think he shared her perverse desires and lust. Well, she had been sorely mistaken, for all of Sylar's faults; he still wasn't looking for any cheap thrills. Candace didn't love him, and he didn't love Candace...the only thing Sylar loved were powers, and she had thankfully provided him with one. With this realization, Sylar decided to make her useful in a way quite different than she had in mind._

_He had killed her and tried to understand what made her so special, but he soon found that he could not. Something had happened in-between dying and being reborn, and all his powers had been ripped away from him. Someone had robbed him of all he had collected over the course of the last year, just as they had robbed him of his destiny in Kirby Plaza some four months ago. He was just Gabriel Gray again. He had done so much that was irredeemable, and for what? He had nothing to show for it. He was just that scared, lonely little boy again._

_And he so hated that little boy._

_So he had taken to the desert, but what he was searching for he wasn't certain. There was nothing out here...nothing for miles...and he was sure to die alone out in the unforgiving, harsh landscape. And he was so thirsty...desperate...needing...the sweat slipping down his face and rolling down his chest and back. His legs staggered and his throat felt so dry it was as if it were choking him with each swallow. _

_He had once been so powerful...so special. It was painful to remember now; to even think on for a moment. Who was the most special now with him gone, after all? The answer always fluttered unwelcome against his weary mind; mocking him incessantly._

_Peter Petrelli, of course. Peter who could take whatever power he wanted without a shred of thought, without a shred of ethical wrong doing. Sylar hated Peter Petrelli._

_Candace had told Sylar that New York had not exploded. Something had diverted it...Sylar supposed that still made Peter a hero, didn't it? He wondered what Peter was like now, was he the cynical, bitter young man Sylar had imagined him becoming, or was he still the wide-eyed embodiment of goodness he had been when Sylar left him?_

_It shouldn't matter. Nothing mattered but trying to find something that soothed the rough burning in his mouth and throat, but Sylar couldn't help thinking about Peter as he roamed the endless sands. Peter and Sylar had been two sides of the same coin...two titans battling among the throngs of demigods...they had been each other's equals in all ways._

_What would Peter think of Sylar now? Peter would think he was pathetic, of course, pathetic as Sylar crawled across scorching desert sands, his heart hammering in his chest, his head screaming at him as he choked on his own dried spit and bile. He was so thirsty...so hungry...desperate and needing._

_Peter was no longer his equal...that thought hurt Sylar, for many reasons he had yet to fully understand. Sylar tried to imagine if he and Peter had continued to be equals instead, both retaining their powers...fighting for an eternity over the souls of little special ones...Sylar to consume, Peter to care for. Would Peter and Sylar truly fight for an eternity, or would one eventually break and give in?_

_Give in...give in to desperate, needing lips...lips that drank their fill...give in to desperate, needing hands...hands that grabbed and consumed and fed a dark hunger._

_Sylar felt himself collapse to the ground. His legs burned beneath him; his wound where Hiro's sword had pierced him felt like fire ripping across his heaving chest. God, he was ready to die. He was already in hell right now, the heavy air and smothering heat pressing in all around him, making it more and more difficult to breathe._

_He would just die here. It was better than continuing down this never-ending path; all his true wants and desires somewhere far away and out of reach. No more powers, no more destiny...somewhere Peter still lived...a hero...the __most__ special..._

"_Sylar." The voice was dark and husky in his ears, just as Sylar had remembered it. He slowly lifted his heavy brown eyes, taking in the full view of the young man who towered over him. His thick brown hair shrouded his sharp features, but those bright, hazel eyes remained on display. Those full lips parted so slightly...Sylar shuddered...what did Peter want from him anymore? He was no longer Peter's equal...no longer a fellow titan among demigods._

"_I have nothing you want, Peter." Sylar whispered darkly, dropping his chin back down into the heated sand. "Just leave me to die."_

_Peter was silent and Sylar wondered if the young man believed his statement or not. Sylar didn't care, he wouldn't allow himself to look weak in front of Peter, even now. Even now he could find ways to unnerve the young man, to shake his innocent, little core._

"_Ah!" Sylar gasped, as with a twitch of Peter's fingers he found himself thrown over onto his back; his arms pinned to his sides, his palms facing up. Sylar narrowed his dark eyes quickly; his parched lips parting to give surprised whimpers. "What are you doing?"_

"_I learned something that you taught me." Peter gave a dangerous smirk, bending down onto one knee. "I learned how to be the most special."_

_Sylar eyed him wearily. So after all the taunts and dark promises Sylar had delivered to Peter in Kirby Plaza, here Peter was in Sylar's darkest hour to return the favor. Sylar wasn't sure what Peter had in mind, but if he was planning on torturing Sylar, well, he welcomed it. Anything to take Sylar's mind off this damned thirst that seemed to be all demanding and all devouring of his senses._

"_You don't seem scared." Peter whispered, tauntingly. He reached a hand down to place in Sylar's mess of thick, dark hair...his fingers lightly stroking and touching each tendril._

"_Scared of you?" Sylar murmured, gazing unwaveringly into Peter's bright eyes. "You can't hurt me, Peter. Even without my powers, you're weaker than me."_

_Peter's eyes hardened as his hands went from gentle strokes to a quick pull of Sylar's hair, jerking the latter's head back into the rough grains of sand. Sylar gave a dark laugh, pleased he had elicited a frustrated response from Peter._

"_You bastard, you don't know anything about me." Peter growled, pressing his face closer to Sylar's. Almost close enough to taste...and Sylar was so thirsty...his lips burning for relief. "Believe me, I've learned how to use these powers. And guess what?" Peter leaned down so that his warm lips burned against Sylar's ear. "I'm gonna use them all on you."_

_Sylar released another strained laugh, his eyes widening towards their gaze on the heavens. "Go to hell, Peter."_

_Peter brought one hand out of the tangles of Sylar's dark mane and dragged his fingers down the taller man's temple. The imagery of the young man's nails digging in near Sylar's skull was not missed on the latter. Peter quirked his lips at Sylar, "You think you understand me? You don't know how I work yet. I bet that drives you crazy..." His fingers continued to lower, scraping along Sylar's jaw line. "I bet that really gets under your skin not knowing...not knowing what all this..." His hand played across Sylar's chest; and Sylar felt the thirst and hunger begin to mount within his core. "...what all this means."_

"_Then let me rip open that skull of yours and find out!" Sylar seethed, his body giving small trembles against his invisible restraints. God, if only he had his powers, he could stop Peter's taunting...hold the young man beneath him, quivering on heated sand, completely at Sylar's mercy just as it should always be._

"_Aw, am I frustratin' you?" Peter gave his familiar half-grin that looked so confident and boyish. "What's wrong, Sylar? Where'd all your powers go..."_

"_I don't need powers to handle you, Peter." Sylar snapped, trying to still his heart from hammering against his ribcage. "Let me show you."_

_Peter ignored him; his fingers were playfully trailing down in-between Sylar's sternum and towards his taut stomach; Sylar closed his eyes tightly and released a dark snort._

_Sylar hated Peter. How could he always think he was so much better than Sylar, his self-satisfaction with the state of his soul angering Sylar to no end. Even if Peter really was the good balance that the scales of the universe demanded...__as sometimes Sylar suspected might be true__...he needn't mock Sylar now that Sylar had nothing, now that Sylar was just Gabriel again, now that Sylar was frightened, and alone, and desperate...needing._

"_Look at you...to think I ever feared you." Peter murmured, tauntingly._

_Sylar squeezed his eyes shut; trying to will himself somewhere far away from this cursed wasteland. He wanted to be far away from the thirst...the hurting...the dying...the loneliness...somewhere safe and familiar, so that if Peter was going to tear him down at least Sylar could be somewhere grounded and secure._

_His eyes blinked open and he was in his old clock shop. He hadn't been here in nearly a year...he gave a small smile; his hands brushing tenderly over some of the old, classic pieces he had helped to restore. He heard a slight shuffling of feet, blinking up to see Peter still within his vicinity, although he had broken free of Peter's captivity._

_Sylar's eyes darted around the room; eager to trap Peter before the young man had the chance to entrap him once more. Peter watched him closely, a sharp anger falling over his face as Sylar made a lunge towards him...Peter moved to run away, but Sylar's form was long and blocked Peter's escape, he grabbed Peter by the wrists and slammed the young man's body flesh up against the large grandfather clock that Sylar kept in his shop. Here, away from the lonely and terrifying unknown that the desert had plagued him with, Sylar was in power once more._

_Peter gasped, his lungs constricting as he collided roughly against the front of the clock; a loud crack snapping through the glass. He stared at Sylar with a mix of fear and disbelief...good, these were the emotions Sylar wanted to see coming from Peter. Not that confidence and mocking he had been wielding before. This...this was much more comforting._

"_See, Peter! I tell you what to do! I TELL YOU WHAT TO DO!" Sylar roared, bringing his face forward so that it was inches from Peter's; watching as the dried flecks of spit flew from his mouth. His temper was flaring; something about Peter always seemed to bring out this crazed needing pulse throughout his body. "If I want you to open your skull for me so I can see all your little fantasies, you do it! If I want you to blow up New York for me, you do it! If I want these lips..." Sylar removed his hand from one of Peter's wrists and shot it up to grip tightly onto the young man's chin...oh, it was just like Mohinder's apartment, and what he should have done before, without wasting time trying to kill a man who couldn't die. "...if I want these lips devouring me, you do that too."_

_Peter stared at him intently; bright hazel eyes burning into his own dark, brown gaze. Peter was nearly unmoving; the only sound a small rasp as he tried to suck air into his burning lungs. There was a palpable tension that hung in the silence._

"_Oh, maybe you didn't hear me." Sylar hissed, his eyes flashing; as he reestablished his punishing grip on Peter's chin. "I want you to...!"_

_But before the words could even finish leaving Sylar's lips; Peter's mouth came crashing down upon his own, taking him in with such desperate fury that Sylar felt as if Peter was robbing him of all breath and understanding. Oh, god, those __lips__...they were so soft and full, just as Sylar had always hoped...so imperfectly perfect; Peter's mouth was so warm, so encompassing, so safe...and Sylar drank and drank, trying to take his fill...he had been dying of thirst so much longer than the desert, he had just never fully realized it. Oh, oh, those lips, those lips, they burned him, they froze him to the spot, they made something deep in his chest roar even as he quivered and shook beneath them._

"_Oh, god, Peter..." Sylar moaned against those soft lips, his words coming out in jumbled murmurs. "All mine..."_

_Peter pulled away, his nose giving out heated spurts against Sylar's bowed head. His voice darkened as he spoke, certainly due to the adrenaline that was now pumping in his veins, "You sick bastard."_

_Those words twisted at Sylar's insides, much like a fire twists and tapers papers in a blaze. He raised his head; trying to raise his defenses once more...Peter could never see too much emotion from Sylar, after all. Peter was so powerful, so demanding, and Sylar had to be his equal. God, even without powers Sylar desperately needed to appear as Peter's equal._

"_I'm sick?" Sylar groaned, something dark clawing in his stomach, everything was beginning to grow tight and painful. "You practically attacked me, and I'm sick?"_

"_You made me." Peter snapped, his eyes biting with dark accusation._

_Sylar tightened his grip on Peter's chin, slamming the young man's head back against the clock, watching with dark satisfaction as thick locks of brown hair fell messily over Peter's face, shrouding him in erotic shadows. "What kind of perverse little mind games are you playing? Why did you come to me anyway? Huh?" Sylar felt his temper rising once more, his knuckles burning white in their rough grasp on Peter. "TELL ME!"_

"_You...don't tell me what to do, Sylar." Peter gave a weak chuckle, there was a small trickle of blood forming on his lower lip from when his head had last collided against the glass. "Sick...bastard..."_

"_What do you want from me then?" Sylar shouted, his hand slipping down from Peter's chin to rest on his collarbone. He gave a rough sigh, trying to lower his voice in an attempt to steady it. "What do you...Peter...good god, what do you want from me, Peter?"_

_Peter...so intoxicatingly good...so frustratingly heroic...just an angel...an angel with wings that Sylar wished to shear, watch as the pretty little feathers floated to the ground in sound conquering. Yes, Sylar wanted to conquer Peter, and then maybe he could emulate whatever made Peter so intriguing. Peter was just a little impure angel, an angel for his goodness and impure for coming to Sylar now, and Sylar longed to be one too, just like Peter._

"_I want you to let me go." Peter murmured, his own voice softening. "I want you to let go for a minute, okay?"_

"_You're going to leave if I let you go!" Sylar accused, his eyes still burning into Peter's. __You'll leave and I'll be alone once more. You'll be gone, gone from my life and I never really got to understand, why had I wasted so much time with other things and not with understanding you...?_

"_I won't." Peter soothed, and he gently brought up his own hands to gently coax down Sylar's. His hands were smooth, but strong, and Sylar allowed them to lead his own hands to his sides. He watched, trustingly, as Peter stood before him. Both were without powers now, without control, neither dominated the other at the moment. They were equals once more._

"_See?" Peter whispered, drawing his lips so painfully close to Sylar's neck. Peter's soft murmurs were blazing against Sylar's sensitive skin. Something was tightly beginning to coil within Sylar's core, and he was still so thirsty, so desperate, so needing._

"_See, I'm not goin' anywhere..." Peter continued, and those full lips pressed up against the pulse in Sylar's neck. Sylar let out a vibrating moan, his hands moving backwards to steady himself against his work table. Peter continued to pay special attention to his pulse, sending shivers rushing down Sylar's back. Sylar began to whimper, his head craning back to allow Peter full access as he continued to ravish the area._

"_Those lips, Peter..."Sylar moaned, breathlessly. __He was obsessed with them._

"_Shhh..." Peter murmured, his hands beginning to gently caress Sylar's face, fingers searching quietly. Every trace of Peter's hands were bringing out new longings in Sylar, new dark desires, new wants to discover Peter, to understand whatever it was that made this young man tick._

"_Why are you doing this...you...you hate me..." Sylar whimpered, as Peter's tongue moved out to tenderly lap down to his collarbone._

"_I dunno." Peter whispered, pulling his lips away briefly. He gave Sylar a dark, lopsided smile; his eyebrows arching. "Maybe I'm just a sick bastard too."_

"_You're not though." Sylar hissed, and his hands itched to reach out and grab Peter once more. "It's what makes you so annoying..." And he wanted to feel the young man's warmth beneath the palm of his hand, to explore him and feel parts of him that were hidden, to try and release an animal from Peter that had to be buried somewhere deep inside...if only the right cages were unlocked. _

"_You hate me then?" Peter hissed, allowing Sylar's large hands to mold around the former's hips, to draw him closer into a demanding embrace._

"_God, I hate you..." Sylar nodded, pressing his hips firmly against Peter's, as he gently bit down on the bottom of Peter's lip. Sylar tasted the blood there from earlier...he didn't like that so much now...as he began pressing soft kisses against the young man's again and again, his hips beginning to roll against Peter's...oh, he needed to feel Peter...he craved the feel of Peter pressing into him. "Everything about you Peter...I hate everything about you...those defiant eyes staring at me...those lips...your smile...I hate it all so much..."_

_His hips found a rhythm against Peter's, as Sylar used his encompassing grasp to roll Peter's hips again and again; the pressure was beginning to affect Sylar's sensitive area and soon he was keening and grunting with need as his arousal began to grow in response. He could feel Peter's growing too...oh, he wanted to feel this for so long now...he could never admit it, he didn't care if it made him sick or not, he just wanted Peter pressed so tightly against him._

_Peter let out soft moans and hisses, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as his long, dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. Small tremors were shaking his form, his hands balling into fists at his sides._

"_Hate me too..." Sylar begged, the contact was firing against his nerve-endings now, every time their hips connected a jolt of pleasure soared through him. "Hate me too, Peter, please..."_

"_No...no, I don't." Peter's lips parted and a gentle groan slipped past them...god, he wanted to smother those lips. Peter needed to stop talking, just shut up and allow himself to feel everything that Sylar was feeling. "I feel nothing for you. You're...you're just a fading bad dream to me now, Sylar..."_

_Sylar let out a sharp hiss of frustration...__why did Peter keep talking, he was ruining it all. Sylar didn't care what Peter actually felt or thought about any of this, he just needed to remain silent. Someone needed to silence him once and for all._

_Sylar opened his mouth and pressed it into Peter's, moving to fully take in the other man's lips with his own. His tongue probed to explore every inch of Peter...Peter was his to understand now...his to pull apart and then put back together again until Peter worked just the way that Sylar liked. Peter was all-consuming, all-engulfing, and while he hated Peter, he also craved this. After all, a man can only hunger and thirst for so long until he's driven to madness._

_Sylar could feel Peter's arousal pushing roughly against his inner thigh. He moved his hips forward eagerly, hoping Peter could feel him just as closely. God, he wanted to go to work on Peter...Sylar was surrounded by clocks but they were all so useless to him now. Peter, so self-righteous, so irritating, so defiant, so heroic...if he could just bury Peter...__bury himself within Peter...__ then everything would be set right again._

"_Touch me, Peter." Sylar groaned, slipping his lips away and pressing them furiously into the side of Peter's warm, sweat-slicked face. Both their breathing had grown belabored, neither hips stilling as they continued to roll and grind against the other, the tightening and shivering only intensifying with each swoop. He waited for Peter's touch but it was still absent and his arousal was throbbing and aching for something more firm. He let out a low grunt, "Touch me, Peter!"_

_Peter shook his head, his lips parting with every hiss and gasp, the pleasure churning and heightening within his quivering form as well. "No."_

"_No?" Sylar demanded, his eyebrows furrowing as he narrowed his eyes. "Oh, Peter, I can still kill you if you don't have any use..."_

"_No, no you touch me." Peter commanded, his eyes fluttering shut once more. "You... you can just shut up and touch me."_

_Oh, Sylar hated him so much. Peter held all the power, all the control, all the dominance. Peter never gave Sylar anything, he just took, took, took, and he made Sylar so craving, so hungry, so needing. God, __**what**__ did Sylar need this badly?_

_Sylar brought a hand down to caress against Peter's clothed sensitive area. At the contact, Peter released a loud moan, his hands reaching out to steady himself against Sylar's broad shoulders. Sylar kneaded at Peter's pulsating arousal expertly, delighting in all the new and wonderful sounds it was pulling from deep within Peter. Sylar decided it was time to lower his mouth back down upon Peter's in an attempt to stifle the young man's crying out. Soon, Peter was sufficiently suffocated beneath Sylar's full, angry lips again._

_Stop talking, Peter, stop making noises. I tell you what to do...just like before, just like always...and you're mine to have any way I like._

_Peter was bucking his hips against Sylar's touch, his head lolling back and pulling away from the taller man. His hands fisted balls of Sylar's shirt as Peter pushed down against Sylar's shoulders in reckless abandon. Oh, this was delicious...Sylar should have done this when Peter was pinned against the wall in Mohinder's apartment...oh, the perversity of it was terrible, and all of the culminating fantasies were making Sylar's lower regions teem with added tension._

"_I hate you so much, Peter..." Sylar continued to rage, his hand continuing to knead at Peter with determined ferocity. Peter's cries of pleasure were so tantalizingly erotic, each one sending a lurch through Sylar's achingly tight stomach. "I hated you in Texas...and when you came to Mohinder's apartment...and during Kirby Plaza..."_

_Peter nodded, his eyes glazed over with rough excitement as another loud groan tore itself from his throat. He'd agree with anything Sylar said now, the little devil...everything was building inside of Peter just like it was mounting inside of Sylar..._

"_I hate the way you're always everywhere I turn...everywhere...I hate how innocent you are... how good you are...I hate you...ah, touch me, please...please..." Sylar cried, his face burying into the side of Peter's hot, sweaty neck. Everything burned, it was so, so agonizingly hot and Sylar was so thirsty...so thirsty...he needed water, he needed relief, he needed Peter to just reach out and touch him, damn it!_

_Peter seemed to finally have some mercy on him, as Sylar felt the young man's warm hand snake down the length of Sylar's lean form. Peter ran two teasing fingers against Sylar's needing arousal and Sylar let out a low grunt, his eyes squeezing shut as he continued to bury his face into Peter._

_Did Peter hate him too? Did Peter hate Sylar just as much?_

_None of that seemed to matter, Peter dragging his lips sensually across Sylar's neck and jugular, his hands roughly kneading at Sylar's arousal. Peter was taking all that teeming tension that was growing inside of Sylar's heaving form and rushing it towards a dangerous precipice._

"_If you hate me so much..." Peter's voice was low, but the rough mocking tone had seemed to reappear. "...why do you want this so bad?"_

_Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking! If Sylar had his powers, he would force Peter's mouth shut with telekinesis, he wouldn't even allow Peter to moan or cry out his approval. He would gag Peter until Sylar was done. Then, and maybe only then, would Sylar allow Peter to talk again. But as it were, he hadn't any means of silencing Peter with powers..._

_Sylar lifted one of his trembling, large hands and clamped it tightly down against Peter's mouth, forcing the young man into silence. "Shh...Peter, I hate it when you talk, too..."_

_Peter's eyes flashed at Sylar with ferocious defiance, but nonetheless, the young man continued to rush his hands again and again over Sylar's hot, needing arousal. Peter's sounds were now extinguished but those dark, hazel eyes were still so full of spite...god, it was all so arousing. Sylar leaned his head back and cried out as his release was beginning to build within him._

"_I'll...I'll let you...t-talk..." Sylar promised, choking on his words as he felt the light promise of spasms starting to churn in his lower regions. "I'll...let...you talk...if you say it...say it, Peter...tell me that y-you h-hate me..."_

_Oh, god, it was almost too much. Too much pleasure, too much pain...even as Sylar cried out for water, he was crying out to be thrown over the edge. There was too much tension burning through him, it was making him weak...dizzy...and Peter was such a terrible, hateful tease. He was purposefully dragging this out, keeping Sylar just on the edge without granting him completion. Those eyes, those eyes, so passionate, so stubborn, so hateful...so hateful...Sylar wished he could see those imperfectly perfect lips right now too, but it was much better that Peter couldn't talk and ruin all the wonderful pretend that Sylar had constructed for them._

_Do you hate me too, Peter? I need to know, I need to know that you hate me just as much, if you think about it nearly as much as I do...I need to know that it tortures you too..._

_Sylar let out a choked sob; his head moving back to bury onto Peter's collarbone. Peter's chest rose and fell heavily as Sylar felt his hands tremble on Peter's lean, sturdy hips. He was almost there...he was so close, and Peter was going to finish this..._

"_Say it...say it!" Sylar demanded, and he let his hand slip ever so slightly down to reveal Peter's lips once more. __They were so beautiful, and Sylar wondered what they would feel like quivering all across the length of his form...he wanted Peter's lips pressing into every inch of his body. __"Tell me you hate me!"_

_Peter took in a shaky gasp, his gaze intensifying, and in this lighting Sylar could appreciate the light gold flecks that seemed to blaze around Peter's irises. "I...I'm all you can think about, aren't I?"_

"_S-stop it..." Sylar seethed, hot tears spilling from his eyes and onto Peter's chest. Peter was breaking his rhythm with his hands and it was infuriating, Sylar needed to let go and this was only keeping his wanting...begging...if only he had his powers to __make __Peter do what he needed. "If-if you...you don't say what I w-want...then don't t-talk!"_

_There...there was the rhythm once more...oh, just a few more strokes of Peter's hand and Sylar would be there, all this horrible pressure and strain giving away to flooding release. Sylar gritted his teeth, his hands straining under the strength of his grasp._

"_I'm all you can think about...but I can hardly remember you at all. Just a bad, fading nightmare. That's all you are to me, Sylar."_

_Except Sylar was gone without all the powers. It was just Gabriel, lonely, needing, sobbing Gabriel. Would it help to tell Peter? Would it help if he knew the truth..._

_Oh, he was almost there...almost there...it didn't even matter if Peter's words were cruel and spiteful...__Sylar could be just as cruel, just as spiteful__...it didn't matter if Peter spat upon him, didn't regard him as an equal any longer...__had they ever truly been equals, since Peter was so maddening with all his complexities_..._and even as Peter spoke words that Sylar told him not to speak, he still did actions that followed exactly what Sylar demanded of him...__Sylar would achieve his completion through Peter, just as it always should have been._

"_Ah, Peter, don't stop...keep going..."_

_Just at that moment, just before that final riveting touch, Peter drew his hand away...his soft touch regressed...he was fading...fading like a dream fades into a particularly harsh awakening after a gentle night's slumber. Sylar felt a desperate cry part his lips, his hands jerking up into the air and trying to grasp onto Peter's weakening form. His eyes blazed in disbelief as Peter continued to disappear. Peter wasn't real, he wasn't concrete anymore._

"_Where—where are you going? Don't...don't stop...god, I'm—I'm almost..."_

_But Peter was slipping out of Sylar's grasp. Peter was becoming like air between Sylar's fingers as Sylar tried desperately to call him back, to concentrate and make Peter real again...no, no, no, no, NO! __Peter was real, but he was in New York. And he was not thinking of Sylar at all. Sylar was just a fading bad dream...but Peter...oh, Peter was a reoccurring nightmare, haunting him, teasing him, bringing him so close to release and then frustrating him to insanity._

_Sylar let out a pained roar, his fingers clawing at the sand beneath him as his arousal still ached painfully against the tight constraints of his jeans. It was all just a painful mirage, and Sylar was still hungry...and thirsty...and desperate...and needing...and Peter had left him alone to die. Damn Peter. He was so good, so innocent, such a messed up, sick little bastard and Sylar wanted him to just go away._

_Or to stop slipping away, to allow Sylar to have Peter any way that he wanted, to use Peter's image to console himself, to bring himself a moment's comfort and respite. But Peter wouldn't even give him that much. Peter didn't even remember Sylar anymore. Maybe Sylar didn't even exist anymore, this pathetic, powerless, empty shell of a man lying in the sand in Sylar's place._

_All that remained of Sylar to Peter was a fading bad dream. But Peter, god, all that remained of Peter to Sylar was hateful hazel eyes that shone with defiance, parted imperfect lips that were soft with perfection, thick, brown hair that cried out to be pulled at and held onto._

_Peter was the reoccurring nightmare that never went away._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Thanks, guys for all the great reviews! This chapter is a little bit longer than usual; thanks to all the extra time I had to write over the weekend, and the inspiration to do so! **

**Chapter 11**

Gabriel opened his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. He brought his palm up to angrily rub at his eye, his lips pursing together in discomfort. None of these memories were helping to soothe him; on the contrary, they were serving to antagonize his already anxious feelings. He wondered what Peter and Angela were talking about right now. Did she ever suspect her son had come to befriend...come to _love_...the murderer? Gabriel had been the cold-hearted killer to Angela, the man who had taken away one, if not both, of her beloved sons, if only in different ways. Did she know why she was no longer welcome at Peter's apartment?

The tall, young man gave a loud growl, as he slammed his head back against the wall. He was leaning back against it, his long legs outstretched before him. Oh, how could Peter really leave him like this? Peter could be so mean. He wondered sometimes if Peter was still not through with punishing him, making him wait here..._in agony..._as he talked to the woman that Gabriel both feared and hated. Peter could still be so cruel and spiteful..._and he had never said I forgive you to Gabriel_...maybe the words that are left unsaid are the most dangerous ones of all.

_Gabriel couldn't keep thinking about such things. It was making something dark churn deep within him. He hadn't felt this angry and confused towards Peter and their relationship in a long time. He was getting all worked up again, more than he should be, and he simply needed to find something else to do, rather than dwell on Peter denying him and then leaving him all alone today. It hurt too much to think about it...it hurt so much...it only hurt because he loved Peter so damn much, whether he could say the words or not!_

"Laundry." Gabriel announced, nodding his head with sudden conviction. He pushed himself up onto wobbly feet, having been in one position for such a long time. He swiped at his eyes to remove the traces of tears adding, "Peter has no clean clothes...I need to do laundry."

The tall, young man headed into Peter's bedroom..._both men had left the sheets and blankets in a state of disarray in their rush to join each other in the shower that morning before the promise of ice cream for breakfast. That morning seemed so far away at the moment...both men had been feeling the warm afterglow of the night before still; that had soon been dashed. It needn't have been...Peter should've chosen Gabriel over Angela. The situation more and more seemed to have been Peter's fault. Peter had eternally frustrated Gabriel, hadn't he? Peter had ran from him while Gabriel had tried to find, Peter had hated while Gabriel had loved, Peter had abused him while Gabriel had allowed each painful blow to rain down upon him._

Gabriel grimaced, picking up a shirt of Peter's off of the floor that was giving off a particularly pungent smell. _Peter definitely had a lower cleaning standard than Gabriel did. Growing up, Gabriel's mother had never kept the house clean, leading the young man to become quite obsessive in his needs to keep things tidy and well-organized. It had been the only thing he could control in that chaotic world; his little mind urging him to keep something within his grasp or face losing his sanity. While these impulses had calmed throughout the past years, he still didn't understand how Peter could throw his clothes in any which way he pleased._

"Peter..." Gabriel grumbled, placing shirts and jeans into the laundry basket that Peter always seemed to miss while taking off his clothes. He gave a brief glance into the closet, Peter's paramedic uniform always hung pristinely from it hanger. Gabriel shook his head; it was easy enough to guess the young man's priorities.

The tall, young man opened one of Peter's dressers to see if he had accidently left any of his unclean clothes behind. Sure enough, he discovered a discarded tank top and a few pairs of dirty socks. He reached down to grab the tank top, and when he lifted it; it revealed a worn photo album underneath. Gabriel pursed his lips, slipping a few fingers down to idly flip through the pages. It held pictures of Peter mostly...with Angela and Nathan, pictures from his childhood and high school days. _His mother must've given him this to have, especially after Nathan had died_. Gabriel took a heavy swallow and picked up the album in his hands..._it wasn't that much of an invasion of privacy to look through it, after all, it only held old family pictures_..._and, more importantly, Peter had hurt him._

There was a picture of Angela in a one-piece bathing suit waving at the camera. She was obviously much younger; her hair long and raven, her eyes a sparkling brown, her smile wide and inviting. On her lap sat a small boy, he had a mop full of dark hair and a familiar lopsided grin that was so big his eyes were squinting with mirth. _This was clearly Peter, the smile gave it away_. Next to Angela was a teenage boy, he was smiling and waving at the camera too. _This was Nathan...they were on the beach...in Monte Carlo, on vacation. Dad...__Arthur__...had taken the family..._

Gabriel gave a small shake of his head. Nathan's memories were beginning to fill his mind once more and this always deeply disturbed him. He didn't want Nathan's memories..._he didn't want them getting rid of or intermixing with any of his own..._he didn't want Nathan's memories _feeling _like his own..._he didn't want to accidently speak Nathan's memories in front of Peter...he hadn't done that for awhile now, but it was something he still worried about._

He flipped to the next page of the album, his eyes softening when he saw Peter holding a baseball trophy, a big half-smile on his face as his thick hair was now starting to grow out. Underneath the picture held the caption, _Peter, 13. Immaculate Conception School Baseball Championship. _Gabriel gave a knowing nod. _Peter had pitched three scoreless innings in that game...he had practiced his pitching with Nathan for years, and it had finally paid off that night. Peter was so proud; he couldn't stop talking about that game. He kept giving Nathan credit for always helping him practice, and Nathan couldn't help but feel a hint of pride for his role in helping the young boy too. Peter had always been so emotional, so sensitive, but Nathan had still shaped his little brother up into a decent sports player. _

_Peter had tried explaining the game to Dad, who had missed it due to a meeting, but their father wasn't listening. Instead, Dad had wanted to know the details about Nathan's last flight exam in the Air Force. Nathan had felt a pang of guilt, but in the end his wish to impress their father had won out. Nathan still remembered the hurt and betrayal that flashed in Peter's hazel eyes that night...but Nathan knew he could make it up to Peter later. Peter always forgave him. He was Peter's hero, after all._

Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows in discomfort, flipping quickly to the next page. There was Angela again, her two boys on either side of her with their arms around her. A large, white sheet cake was on the table before them. The caption read, _Angela with Peter (9) and Nathan (17). _ This was taken on Angela's birthday. They were all smiling broadly...Peter was missing a few teeth...and Nathan was a senior in high school. _Prom was two weeks away and graduation was three. He had already been accepted to the Air Force, the letter having come in the mail the day before. Angela had told him it was a wonderful early birthday present, but she had given a much bigger reaction when Peter had lost another baby tooth the same day. Nathan was growing up and leaving soon, but Peter could always be her little boy._

There was another picture of a teenage Nathan holding a young Peter in a headlock while Peter was apparently in the midst of a bitter struggle. Nathan was smiling as if there were not a care in the world, Peter was clearly irritated..._This was a few days later. Peter had told Nathan he had learned some new wrestling moves he was eager to try out._

Gabriel pursed his lips; his insides were filled with mixed emotions. It was nice seeing Peter's childhood..._terrible to know every single memory behind it..._and uncomfortable wondering whether Peter would wish him to look through the album or not. _He wondered why Peter had never shown him the album before_.

There was another picture of a teenage Peter dressed in a tux, his dark brown hair now falling haphazardly into his sharp eyes. He had an arm around a short girl with golden brown skin and curly black hair that was piled up on her head. She wore a rather gaudy sea green dress...it seemed to match the _Magic beneath the Sea_ themed-banner in the background. Under the picture was scrawled, _Peter (17) with Gloria_. _Xavier High School. _

_This was Peter's prom...Gabriel hadn't gone to his prom. He had fantasized about asking a certain girl...she had been a cheerleader, her locker was situated only two down from Gabriel, and he had watched her all year but had never had the courage to even say hello. _

_But then it had happened, a dashing, confident young man stopping her right in front of Gabriel's locker. Gabriel had to pause right in front of them as he had been heading to put his books away. It was humiliating, just standing there, as the young man had easily asked her to the dance. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut in anger as she enthused her approval; he felt like such an idiot just standing there, arms hanging limply at his sides; his neck burning with humiliation. Neither boy nor cheerleader had ever noticed him as they walked off together._

_The night of the prom, Gabriel had locked himself in his room, ignoring his mother's comforting words that only troublemakers and whores went to school dances anyhow. No, Gabriel was safe here...safe in this godforsaken house, safe from all the little dirty whores that went to his high school, safe from the beautiful cheerleader with bouncy blond hair and long, trim legs...Gabriel had sobbed into his pillow once he was certain his mother was asleep. He hated all the cheerleaders for being whores, he hated that boy who had asked his crush out, he hated himself for being the only senior home with his mother the night of the prom. He hated that no one would realize that he had never showed up...he hated who he was, this useless, pitiful human being rather than the hero he had prayed to God he could be._

_But of course Peter had gone to his prom...Peter was likeable, Peter had never been pitiful like Gabriel. And Gloria was his girlfriend at the time, they had dated for about a year and Peter was absolutely crazy about her. Both had sworn to keep in contact after high school, but a week into summer vacation she had called to tell Peter that she felt they should both move on. Peter had been inconsolable; it had been his first heartbreak. Nathan had warned Peter that the young man often became too attached...dating in high school should just be __fun__ after all, did Peter always have to take matters of the heart so seriously? Nevertheless, Nathan had been there for him, his leave from the military coinciding with Peter's graduation, and he remembered the night he let his brother cry on his shoulder. Nathan had tried offering a few less-than-flattering remarks about Gloria as a means of bolstering his brother's spirit, but Peter refused to hear such things. So Nathan resigned himself to listening, hugging his little brother as he continued to sob, every now and then trying to remind Peter that love always comes around again stronger than the time before. Gloria would eventually be forgotten...this wasn't met well by Peter, either, but Nathan knew that someday Peter would understand._

Gabriel quirked his lips..._Peter probably understood what Nathan meant now. But Gabriel could understand how the advice was not well-received initially. Life experience was often needed in such situations._

His eyes moved down to see a picture of Angela, with long black hair falling down her shoulders, and her arms around an eleven year old Peter. Peter had one hand come up to rest on his mother's arm, while a dog sat by his feet. _Nathan didn't know when this picture had been taken...he had been away at the time. Angela and Peter were so close...he was her baby forever. Nathan was the oldest; he inherited all the responsibilities of the family. But Peter could stay young and innocent, Angela made sure of that. When Dad came down with depression, she told Nathan he was not allowed to tell Peter. Peter was her baby forever. It was for this reason that all the burdens of the Petrelli family fell squarely upon Nathan's shoulders. But it was how he wanted it, with Dad trusting him and how important that made him feel. Peter could never understand that, but Angela had never wished him too._

There was a picture of Nathan, Nathan's wife, Heidi, Peter and a girl with short, curly blond hair..._her name was Donna and she was a nursing student too. Her and Peter dated for a couple semesters. Ma hadn't liked Donna that much, she was too chatty. _They were all seated by a table on an outdoor patio. Nathan had his arm around Heidi and both were smiling but Peter and the girl were simply talking, as if unaware a picture was being taken.

Another picture caught Gabriel's eye; it was of Nathan and Peter on a sailboat, the camera obviously being held by Nathan, with Nathan and Peter smiling with purposefully cheesy smiles. Nathan was in his mid-twenties and had taken Peter out as a belated birthday present, after missing his actual sixteenth birthday while away. _ At this point, Peter's relationship with their father had severely disintegrated. Peter had reached the point in which he no longer tried to seek his father's approval, on the contrary he and Dad often got into loud arguments. Dad would often yell that Peter needed to change that attitude of his, and Nathan would sometimes try and play peacemaker between them; coaxing Peter to rethink the angry words he had said towards their father. But Peter replied he didn't care, he was tired of trying to do right by Dad. Dad was no better than a criminal, helping criminals like Linderman with his mob connections, and Peter wanted no part in it. Nathan was often gone anyway, leaving Peter alone to deal with Dad. Peter was starting to feel angry and isolated in his own home. Nathan tried to tell him that this was a normal part of being a teenager, but he knew deep down that Peter and their father would never see eye to eye. This led Nathan to accepting the role not only as older brother to Peter, but also as the sole male role model in his life. This was especially apparent on the fishing trip he had taken Peter out on for his birthday. _

_The day had started light-hearted enough, with Peter and Nathan both teasing each other on who was certain to catch the bigger fish, but after some time, Peter had grown quiet as if deep in contemplation._

"_You got awfully quiet, Pete." Nathan smiled, leaning against the railing, his fishing pole resting in his hands. "What's on your mind?"_

_Peter gave several quick blinks...Nathan knew it meant that he was anxious about something...as he leaned forward like Nathan had. "I don't know, Nathan, I've just been thinking the last few days..."_

"_About what?" Nathan asked, giving his line some slack as he cast his little brother a furtive gaze. "C'mon, what's botherin' you?"_

_Peter pursed his lips and gave a deep sigh, turning his head towards Nathan. "It's kind of embarrassing."_

"_Okay, then, don't tell me..." Nathan shrugged, reeling his line in once more._

"_No..." Peter spoke up suddenly, as Nathan knew he eventually would. "I...I want too."_

"_Then talk. Jeez, Pete, c'mon, what is it?"_

_Peter took in another deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering once more. He finally seemed to find his composure as he blurted out, "It's about relationships."_

_Nathan gave a small chuckle. Peter was lucky to have an older brother. Nathan was close to their father, but Dad hadn't been the warmest person growing up, emotionally. Nathan had usually dealt with his own relationship problems, using trial and error. He had been a bit of a womanizer, something Peter never seemed to imitate while in high school. But Nathan imagined that whatever relationship question Peter had in mind, Nathan should be able to give reasonable advice that should satisfy a sixteen-year-old boy._

"_Okay, what about relationships?" Nathan asked, raising his eyebrows wonderingly as he watched Peter's whole face redden beneath his older brother's gaze. "What's all this about?"_

"_It's...well," Peter took in a deep breath before pushing on, "What do you do when...you know...when you're with somebody?"Peter's last few words came out rushed and jumbled, he was looking towards the floor of the boat now._

_Nathan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "With somebody?" He echoed, but Peter still wasn't meeting his eyes. He thought for a minute, "Pete, do you mean sex?"_

"_Shh!" Peter blushed, furiously. He brought up a hand to bury his face in, his other hand still hanging onto the fishing pole. "Maybe."_

_Nathan felt himself grow slightly uncomfortable, Peter was forever his little brother, after all. "Um...okay. Is...is this a hypothetical question or are we actually talking about a real situation here?"_

"_Hypothetical." Peter mumbled, his hands still pressed against his reddening face._

_Nathan gave a small sigh, reaching over to gently pat Peter on the back. "Now what exactly is the question?"_

"_I...well, I hear things from school, but I want to know what's real." Peter gave a heavy swallow, finally lifting his eyes back up to look over at Nathan. He had always trusted his older brother above all others. "I know what the guy's supposed to do...but nobody says what you're supposed to do for your partner. How do you make...how are you supposed to make sure they're enjoying it? I mean...what are you supposed to do? So that it's special for them?"_

_Nathan tried to hide his smile. Peter was a good kid. "Oh, Pete." He brought his hand up to tussle Peter's dark, brown hair. "You don't have to worry about that..."_

"_But I wanna know now." Peter flushed again, furiously, and Nathan wondered if Peter was being truthful when he said that this was a hypothetical question. Nathan knew that Peter had been dating his girlfriend for some time now. _

_Nathan gave a small shake of his head. "No, I mean you really don't have to worry about that. When you're with the right person, it all comes together." Peter looked doubtful, so Nathan continued. "Look, when you find someone you can talk to, it just works itself out. Okay?"_

Gabriel shut the album...that had been a very personal memory, and a sudden wave of guilt washed over him as he moved to place it back into Peter's dresser drawer. _It had been wrong of him to go through it without Peter's permission..._even worse because each of the pictures had been accompanied by intimate details of Peter's life before he met Gabriel..._but that wasn't Gabriel's fault, he had never wanted that_.

He gathered all the clothes into the laundry basket before preparing to head down to the basement of the apartment complex where the washing machines and dryers were held. He grabbed his book and placed it on top of the clothes, deciding to get some reading done as he waited. He juggled the basket in his hands, while locking Peter's door behind him.

_Peter had loved others before Gabriel. Was Nathan right, did love always come again and stronger than the time before? Or did each love just replace the other, rendering previous 'I love you's' all null and void. In one respect, Nathan had been wrong...when you found the right person, things didn't always come together. Things didn't just work themselves out. Relationships were hard. Peter had been right in asking...how do you make that other person happy? When you love somebody, doing right by yourself is a given...you always understand and appreciate your own needs. But how do you satisfy another person, how do you anticipate what hurts them; what heals them, what draws them closer, what pushes them away? It most certainly does not work itself out...and Nathan should never have told Peter that. Maybe Nathan realized that later in life, as he watched so many of his previous relationships fail, one after the other._

Gabriel entered the basement washing room. He was the only other person there, besides an old lady that eyed him rather curiously. _No, I don't live in this apartment complex...and yes, you have seen me here all week. _Gabriel thought, darkly. _I've been having sex with Peter Petrelli...he's that nice boy that probably always opens the door for you_.

He began roughly shoving Peter's clothes into the washing machine. The old lady was watching nervously now, he was putting a lot of force into every simple action. Gabriel sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. _He didn't need to scare any innocent old ladies_. He pulled out Peter's blue, button-up shirt. _The one he had worn last night...the one Gabriel had only gotten half of the way off before both men had succumbed to the demanding pull of their passions. Gabriel pressed the shirt to his nose, taking in a deep breath as he did so. It smelled like Peter still...it smelled like Gabriel too...it smelled like intimacy, like their fevered lovemaking...it was a bit arousing, and Gabriel found he had to quickly place the shirt away as well, hoping not to frighten the poor old lady any further._

Gabriel rummaged through his pocket, trying to find some loose change he knew he had left in them. He pulled out a few quarters, aware that the old lady was still watching him closely.

He turned and gave her a small smile, hoping to set her at ease. This only seemed to aggravate her further..._she didn't like strangers, apparently._

"I'm Peter's friend." Gabriel explained, a bit too loudly, unable to take her accusing stares any longer. "Peter Petrelli...I'm his friend..." He trailed off, embarrassment flooding him. Hopefully, this would satisfy his reason for being in the apartment, proving that he wasn't some deranged lunatic that broke in to do his laundry in other people's complexes.

"Yeah, I don't know who that is." The old lady snapped, her eyebrows rising rather pointedly. She began folding her socks with wrinkled hands.

Gabriel gave a heavy sigh..._why had he tried to explain himself at all_. "Oh, okay." He rolled his shoulder, uncomfortably, pressing the washing machine button down to start it. He settled down on the bench, picking up his book in an attempt to settle his mind.

"_You won, Nathan!" Peter exclaimed, hurrying to try and keep up with Nathan and several of Nathan's friends on the baseball team. There was all a small group of admiring girls, cloying and flirting as they walked. _

_Peter jumped up and down, his fist pumping in the air with excitement. "You completely obliverated the other team!"_

"_Obliterated." Nathan corrected, not bothering to slow down as his brother's small, seven year old legs scrambled to keep pace. "Now go home, the group and I are getting some ice cream, alright?"_

"_But I wanna come!" Peter insisted, reaching out to grab onto Nathan's hand in an attempt to pull himself side-by-side with his older brother. "Hey, Nathan! I got in a fight with that kid who was jeerin' you and the team. I pinned 'im, Nathan, I used that move you taught me! I didn't hurt him, but I did it just like you taught me!"_

"_Pete, go home!" Nathan insisted, tugging his arm out of his little brother's hands. "And don't tell Ma you got into any tussles, or I'll get in trouble."_

"_But...Nathan!" Peter whined. The other guys were laughing, all were around the same age of about fifteen and sixteen and no one had to deal with small, younger brothers who constantly wished to tag along._

"_Aw, come on, Nathan." One of the girls, Sandy Richardson, cajoled. Nathan liked her, she had long dark hair and the brightest green eyes he had ever seen; they were just like the calm of the sea before a storm. "He's cute, let 'im come."_

_Peter gave a knowing smile. Peter was cute and knew it...thanks to Ma, who never ceased to mention it as if anyone had possibly forgotten._

_Nathan turned to Sandy, flashing her a wide smile. He turned back around to Peter, gripping him by the shoulder. He hissed under his breath, "Look, I'm trying to impress that girl, alright? So you can come if..." Peter's lopsided smile started to widen, and Nathan lifted a hand to silence him. "IF you don't talk, say anything embarrassing, or do anything embarrassing, do you understand?"_

_Peter gave a quick and earnest nod, crossing his heart with his finger._

"_Okay, c'mon, Pete." He felt Peter take his hand again and he relented, allowing the little boy to swing their arms back and forth in a childish manner._

"_What? You're babysitting now?" One of Nathan's friends groaned._

"_Look, John, Pete's a good kid, he's not gonna slow us down." Nathan felt his heart skip a beat as Sandy approached him, her attention geared towards Peter at the moment._

"_You're sweet, what's your name?" Sandy smiled, watching as Peter continued to swing his and Nathan's arm back and forth._

"_I'm Peter, but NATHAN said I'm not allowed to talk." Peter snapped, and Nathan gritted his teeth in annoyance._

"_Aww, what?" Sandy pursed her lips. "Why not?"_

_Nathan gave Peter's hand a hard squeeze, warning him to be quiet. "Of course you can talk, Pete, don't be silly." He turned to face Sandy...his heart quickening once more. "Pete's a funny one, you know, we're so close and all we just mess with each other all the time."_

"_That's adorable." Sandy said, her bright green eyes sparkling in the fading light of the afternoon. "Peter seems to just adore you, I saw him cheering during the game."_

"_Well, I guess I'm just easy to adore." Nathan flashed another smooth smile; delighting to see her blush slightly._

"_Oh, brother!" Peter muttered under his breath and Nathan gave him a small shove with his body to quiet the little boy._

_Sandy gave a small nod, her eyes darting away coyly. "Sit next to me at the ice cream shop?"_

"_Of course." Nathan promised, smiling with excitement as she hurried away to join her group of girlfriends. Nathan turned to thump Peter in the head with his palm. "Thanks a lot, goof! I thought I said you couldn't embarrass me!"_

"_Ow, Nathan that really hurt!" Peter snapped, rubbing his head irritably._

"_Alright, alright, calm down." Nathan whispered, hushing his brother gently. "Look, there's a new plan anyway. You act cute in the ice cream parlor for Sandy, but when she starts talking to me, you be quiet, okay?"_

_Peter pursed his lips together, his small cheeks growing red. He was clearly still angry at his brother for the small smack he had received across the head._

_Nathan gave a sigh, "Look, I'll get you two cherry popsicles today, okay? Two."_

_Peter's favorite frozen treat was cherry popsicles and Nathan bought him one after every victory as a reward what a good fan the little boy was. After all, Peter had never missed a single game all season and always cheered Nathan on until he was hoarse. _

_Peter's bright hazel eyes lit up. "Really?"_

"_Yeah." Nathan gave Peter's hand a gentle squeeze. "And thanks for cheering me on today, Pete. I heard you."_

"_You did?" Peter was beaming now, his anger completely forgotten. Peter always forgave Nathan; Nathan was his hero._

"_I did. And I'm proud you pinned that jerk for me. He was like, what? Three times bigger than you?" Nathan smiled, as he saw Peter's chest swell._

"_Yeah, he was! But I got 'im, Nathan, you shoulda seen it!" Peter bounced up and down. He lowered his voice to try and sound like some old-time boxing announcer, "In this corner...the Italian Stallion, Peter Petrelli..."_

_Nathan gave a small chuckle, he and Peter often gave each other famous wrestling nicknames when they tussled with each other. However, as they approached the ice cream shop, Nathan quickly shushed him. "Okay...shh, shh. Remember, be cute and then be quiet."_

Gabriel gave a small groan, snapping the book shut. He wished Nathan's memories would just leave his head once and for all. He didn't want to remember Peter as a small boy, adoring his brother, them eating cherry popsicles together after a baseball victory..._he hadn't known Peter's favorite dessert was cherry popsicles, and he wanted to find these things out by asking Peter, not by having them pop up in memories he shouldn't even have access to_. _It was hurting the intimacy of their relationship...these were countless small questions that could be posed during tender pillow talk with Peter, but instead were given to him by a dead man's haunting remembrances._

Nathan had been a selfish man, this memory exemplifying that further. Gabriel had never particularly liked him very much. For some reasonPeter had simply adored him..._and still did, in fact in death, Nathan had gotten placed on an untouchable pedestal. If you asked Peter now, it would seem as if Nathan had never done any wrong, being a model father, brother, husband, and son. Gabriel knew better, he had just as many memories of failure and self-serving deceit as he did any of the memories that Peter always chose to focus on. But maybe Peter couldn't see selfishness as clearly as most, it being a characteristic so foreign to himself._

No, Gabriel had never particularly liked Nathan. Peter was the Petrelli brother he had always sought...he had really only interacted with Nathan a few, fateful times during his three year nightmare. It was cruelly ironic, for although Peter was the one Gabriel had continually chased after, Nathan was the Petrelli brother that had changed his life forever.

_Killing Nathan had sent Gabriel's life spiraling out of control. It had made Peter want to murder him, torture him without mercy. It had destroyed him; severed all the invisible threads he hadn't even know were connecting him to everyone...Peter, Claire...even Angela._

Gabriel had always wanted a brother growing up. He had wanted a younger brother, but once his father had left he knew he would be an only child forever. It didn't stop him from imagining it, from wishing for it. _Maybe if some stranger showed up and told Gabriel that his family wasn't his real family, he'd find that he did indeed have a younger brother. To guide, to nurture, to teach. He could share his thoughts with his little brother, he could read the boy his favorite books, and he could make sure no one treated the boy unkindly. He'd teach his brother how to pray to God, and Gabriel would no longer be alone in the house when mom was acting irrationally. Gabriel would have someone to adore him and think of him as special._

_Peter had adored Nathan. Nathan was flawed and selfish, and Peter had to forgive him countless of times, but in Peter's eyes, Nathan was his hero. Gabriel had never been anyone's hero. He had played at it for awhile, during a time in his life when Angela had been deceiving him, but it had all turned out to be some cruel joke. Gabriel had never been anyone's hero. Maybe Nathan truly hadn't either. Maybe it was always just Peter...Peter was everyone's hero, the man who adored all the selfish, flawed souls in his life._

Gabriel placed the book down in his lap. He had to stop thinking about all these things, there were too many strange memories floating around in his head now, and he couldn't differentiate if they were of his own mother..._his mother telling him that he was her miracle child, born to her when she thought it impossible. He was an angel that God had sent, that's why he was named Gabriel_...or Nathan's mother..._he had scraped his knee and Angela had hushed him as she placed the band-aid on the small wound. Petrellis don't cry, she had told him. Years later, he'd watch as she'd gently touch Peter's small tear-streaked face and told him that it was okay for boys to cry. _Sometimes there'd be other memories altogether, dark and grainy images of long suppressed recollections...this was of his biological mother, he assumed..._she had long raven hair as black as night, and eyes that looked like Gabriel's. She was smoking a cigarette as he sat on her lap, the smoke swirling into the air and making strange patterns as it rose. She was singing to him in another language...it might've been Italian...but her eyes were always watching something else...always something far away. He always wanted to know what she was looking at, but he could never see it clearly enough...as soon as his eyes tried to remember what she had seen, her features so dark and beautiful, she was Angela once more."Show them all why you're my favorite." She'd say to him, and now she was his mother too. "Make mommy proud."_

Gabriel tried to choke back his moan, the little old lady still present..._and probably still suspicious of him_. He fisted his pant legs beneath him, wondering why he couldn't just calm his racing mind by willpower alone..._he had always had a strong will, but when his mind became agitated something was always demanded of him to soothe it or the pain he felt inside would only intensify. So his mind would always require something of him...he needed to clean, clean, clean...and later that had been replaced with cut, cut, cut, and now that cleaning and cutting were gone he found himself at a complete loss. His mind was reeling once more, the first time in such a long time, and he knew he needed an outlet or it would continue to torture him, demand from him, hurt him until he did something to calm it._

_Peter had often been that outlet...Peter's presence alone was soothing and calming. He could just watch Peter's lips as they parted to make tender shushing noises, as they moved in to press lightly to his temple...and his mind would make peace with him once more. _

But Peter had left him, and now his mind was making war against his body. _It was moving in a thousand different directions, pulling thousands of memories all at once...some Gabriel's, some Nathan's...some grainy and frightening...and it wouldn't stop until he found something that would draw out the burning anxiety and fear from the well of his deep emotions and pour it into something else._

Why would Peter leave him? He knew Gabriel could become anxious...Peter had never seen him fall quite this far...hands twitching with every painful ache that shot up his chest and into his troubled brain, eyes boring into the washing machine in a mad attempt to ground himself. Peter had never seen him like this, because when Peter was around it never got this bad. _Peter was his salvation in every sense of the word_.

_Those lips...Peter's lips were a strange form of salvation. Gabriel had always craved perfect symmetry...two lamps on either side of his bed in his old apartment...bookcases that mirrored each other...perfect, crimson lines of blood that split across the heads of special ones. _

_But when Peter spoke...and his lips became ever so slightly asymmetrical with every sensation...every emotion...every earnest word, Gabriel couldn't help but feel as if he had stumbled upon something very freeing and perfect. Peter's lips were so beautiful and brought Gabriel so many good feelings...what with kisses that could be breathy and fleeting or deep and consuming or rough and animalistic...so that something about those lips being imperfect yet perfect all at the same time made nothing in the world seem a spot out of place._

He had tried explaining this to Peter once, but he had somehow managed to jumble his meaning...Peter seemed to think that Gabriel was pointing out what he perceived to be some physical flaw. It seemed as if Gabriel often struggled to accurately convey his emotions to Peter, somehow Gabriel always got tongue-tied and tripped up..._somehow he always ended up staring at Peter's lips rather than explaining what he wished to say about them..._and Peter was once again left in the dark about Gabriel's real and heartfelt meaning.

Gabriel dipped his head down to his chest...the old lady had left with her laundry, leaving the tall, young man to reveal some of his inner anguish. He folded his arms tightly around his chest as a means of self-preservation. _What was Angela saying to Peter now? Did she tell Peter that it wasn't healthy for him to spend time around Gabriel? Peter had told Gabriel that Angela knew about Peter sometimes visiting the other man, but nothing more. What if she was saying she wished Peter would have nothing more to do with Gabriel...Sylar...the killer?_

_Gabriel had killed Nathan. And Angela had adored Nathan, the man's memories colored this somewhat, what with Peter and Angela being so close and Angela always being emotionally distant from Nathan. But she had adored her oldest son, and was willing to kill her own husband to protect him. She would kill anyone who would harm her children._

_Gabriel included._

He tightened his grip around himself, the loud _thump, thump_ of the clothes in the washing machine oddly agitating. Gabriel had once thought himself as a Petrelli. He had thought that Peter was his little brother..._and all the twisted, perverse fantasies that had kept him up for countless nights after the ordeal in Kirby Plaza had finally began to make sense. Of course, this was only Sylar's subconscious always knowing somehow that he actually cared for Peter, in a purely brotherly sense in reality. He could begin rechanneling those impure thoughts and cravings into a real love and care for a little brother. It all made so much sense now. It was comforting, for the intensely disturbing and sexual images of before had bothered him._

But Angela had lied to Gabriel, Peter was not his brother and she was not his mother. But for a time, he had felt as if the entire universe had opened to him and he had finally been granted that second chance at life: he had a mother who would care for _him_, and a little brother he could guide and nurture. And he could finally be a hero..._him and Peter now saving the world side by side rather than trying to destroy each other_.

_He was locked in the Level 5 cell beneath the structures of the Company, the organization that collected special people in order to protect the rest of the world. Level 5 was for the especially heinous among those who had abilities. Sylar was here and he knew he deserved it. He wanted to be here...to prove he could stay and be good...to show his mother he was changing, that he could be a good boy after all. He was deep in meditation, his back turned to face the opposite wall rather than the glass that revealed portions of the outside hallways. He was contemplating all that had happened to him recently. He was also attempting to silence his raging hunger...he was surrounded by other criminals with abilities and their powers seemed to be screaming for him to come and collect especially loudly at the moment. He needed to silence his mind...he needed to go over all that had brought him to this moment._

_He had eventually escaped the desert, making his way back to New York. There he had found Mohinder once more, where he had learned that he had lost his powers due to a virus that the Company had injected him with. After receiving the cure, he had made his way to Claire's house. Precious, pretty little cheerleader...she was his at last. Peter wasn't here to protect her from monsters now, and at last she submitted her powers to Sylar. Precious, innocent girl...he hadn't killed her and he found he now had no wish to. Claire was connected to Peter, and Peter was forever lurking in Sylar's conscious. Claire could tell Peter that Sylar had taken her precious ability and Peter had done nothing to save her. That would make Peter remember Sylar; that would drudge up all the old memories and feelings that Peter had for Sylar. That would reawaken his dormant hatred...the thought was somewhat arousing._

_While in Claire's house had had found files that told him of a host of abilities just waiting to be unwrapped in Level 5. He had gone, but in a fight with Elle, a company agent, he had been knocked unconscious. When he had awakened, Angela was there. And then, it was as if after twenty-eight years of pleading and crying out to a God he no longer believed in, a prayer was answered. He had a new family. Angela explained that he was really her son...and Peter was his brother, __of course, of course__...and Sylar had been meant to save the world. He had been meant to save, just like Peter, not to destroy. It all had been so real and so wonderful, and for a moment, Sylar could hear the faint whisperings of a forgotten God, the tiny echo of hope in his heart, and he knew now why he had gone down this nightmarish road. In the end, it had led him to his mother...his mother who loved him for who he was, cared for him and nourished him, guided him and didn't expect him to care for her or live in any loneliness or guilt or anger. And Peter...he couldn't wait to redirect his previously disconcerting thoughts about the young man...to love Peter...to love Peter like he had always been meant to do. And Peter could love Sylar._

_Sylar continued to think, his eyes downcast, his back very tall and straight as his hands rested on his knees. Peter could love his big brother. It was such a comforting thought, such a soothing thought to think of, Peter casting him a lopsided grin; those bright hazel eyes shining with trust and respect, those arms only reaching out to hug...not to hurt, not to fight, not to lift in fear whenever Sylar approached him._

_There was a small noise in the corner of his cell, and at once Sylar knew. He didn't know how he knew for certain, but something deep within him told him he knew who had entered the cell. Who else could it be, but the young man who always walked the same path as Gabriel, as if by coincidence or divine intervention? Who else could it be, but the man who had haunted Sylar for a year now, like a nightmare that every night one hopes to receive, if only to make sense of it all someday?_

"_Peter." Sylar murmured, his eyes flashing open. He was back...back in Sylar's life after almost a year away...and as he began to turn around he saw Peter rushing towards him._

_Sylar stared at the young man in surprise as Peter leapt over the bench that the former had previously been sitting on. He had a dark madness shining in his eyes, and before Sylar could fully understand what was happening, Peter had grabbed him by the neck and hoisted him roughly against the cell wall._

_Sylar gasped in surprised confusion, the air being thrust from his lungs as his back contacted with the wall. Peter was attacking him...__just like he had in every nightmare that Sylar had suffered since Kirby Plaza__...but Sylar didn't understand why this was happening now, not in the real, live waking world. Peter hadn't seen him in a __year__, but yet here he was, dark anger permeating his being; his hazel eyes flashing with all the hatred and intensity that Sylar had ever imagined seeing again._

_Peter looked different now...his thick, brown locks had been sheared and he now had a neat, short cut. He was a little older...and so much angrier. But his lips...his lips were the same...just as imperfectly perfect...and they began to preciously tremble with every sick realization. He was also slightly bared, clad only in pants. When Sylar had been having twisted nightmares regarding Peter, he had often tried to imagine the young man in innocent nakedness, eyes wide and angelic as Sylar's eyes ravished the sturdy lean muscles of his form. But Peter was more beautiful in reality than Sylar's impure mind had ever managed to concoct, and it was with a pure understanding that Sylar gazed upon him now, without desire or lust._

"_Oh! What are you doing?" Sylar grunted roughly, watching Peter with intent innocence. Why was Peter hurting him...it had been a year of nothing...now this?_

"_I went to the future. The world ends." Peter was snarling, his voice coming out rough and fast. He continued to accusingly stare at Sylar as he added, "I took your ability so I can understand how to stop it."_

_Peter had taken Sylar's ability._

_He could understand how things worked...he could make sense of how all the pieces fell into place...he would hunger for more and more and more...nothing would satisfy him now but thick blood pooling around him as he devoured every answer to every raging question._

"_You took my ability." Sylar whispered, his eyes now shining with realization as he gave a small smirk. Peter had the same ability now. Maybe without the hunger, Sylar could have been just like Peter. Maybe it was never Sylar's fault he was such a depraved soul...the ability had been the Devil, not himself. And now...now after a year of nothing...Sylar had left a permanent mark of remembrance on his little brother. "You have the hunger."_

_Peter's dark hazel gaze changed from that of hatred to a knowing horror. Sylar felt a twinge of satisfaction, Peter had been angering him...after a year of nothing...he had come back to treat Sylar with such brutal disregard. Sylar felt his defenses rise once more...he had to be equal to Peter in all things, even if it meant cruel spite._

"_You're like me." Sylar insisted, still breathing heavily for lost air. He liked saying these words and seeing Peter physically respond to them, the temper that Sylar had only seen once before in Kirby Plaza was easily resurfacing now. _

_Peter lost his trembling rage, slamming Sylar against the wall once more. The pain riveted through Sylar's body...after a year of nothing, pain felt wonderful. It meant Peter cared enough to hurt him again. Peter was not as innocent these days; something corrupting and impure had washed over his soul...something of Sylar's._

"_I will never let myself become you." Peter growled, and he was trying to harness his anger once more, but it was still simmering heatedly on the surface._

_Such an angry young man. He needed guidance. But first, he needed to pay for how he was treating Sylar. After all, the first step to love was the ability to mutually hurt one another._

"_You already are..." Sylar smirked, a perverse excitement at finally revealing the truth to the young Petrelli overtaking him. "...__brother__." And he placed as much dark and mocking emphasis on the word as he possibly could, his smile fading as he continued to stare intently._

_Peter eyes went wide with horror...in this lighting there was a golden amber flashing in the light brown. Peter's eyes were just as emotive and expressive as he was and Sylar had never noticed before...he noticed now._

"_NO!" Peter shouted, and before Sylar could react, the young man had soundly snapped his neck. As Sylar fell the floor, Claire's ability of regeneration already surging through him, he heard Peter cry out, "I can't be you!"_

_But Peter was Sylar and Sylar was Peter. The hunger had won in the end, the hunger always won. A person could fight the hunger, could plead with the hunger, could starve themselves until their whole body ached, but in the end they always needed to surrender their soul to the ever-demanding hunger._

_Poor Peter. Sylar felt a pang of guilt that he had tormented the young man, his previous nightmares seeming so disgusting and dirty to him now. Peter was his little brother and Sylar needed to guide him...to nurture him...and show him how to silence the hunger. If he could teach Peter how to do it...well, then maybe Sylar could be a hero someday too._

It was later that afternoon and Peter was still gone. _Him and Angela must've been especially reconnecting today...Peter had been gone for hours now_. But Peter was Gabriel's now..._his mind, his body, his spirit..._and Gabriel hated that Angela got even one day's worth of Peter when it all rightfully belonged to the former. Gabriel had decided the outlet that would soothe his burning, blazing thoughts would be folding Peter's laundry..._the clothes all smelled like Peter's washing detergent now, and not like Gabriel. They would have to remedy that soon. _Once that task had been completed, his new outlet was fixing the wall he had dented earlier in his display of temper..._Peter had all kinds of home repair appliances in his apartment, apparently things were always falling apart and so the young man was prepared_.

He had soon finished, patting at the new smoothness of the wall to be sure he had done a proper job. _It was well enough, Peter was sure to never notice. Peter wasn't very observant of things...only of people and their emotions. Gabriel realized they were quite opposites again in that regard._

Just then the doorbell rang, jolting Gabriel away from his thoughts. Gabriel gave a start, his head jerking away from the wall. He gave a cautious pause, while taking a few curious steps towards the offending noise. _But he wasn't to answer it...was he?_ As if in response to this question, several loud knocks reverberated against the door.

Gabriel wiped his palms against his pants, hesitantly. _His heart had given a hopeful start...maybe it was Peter returning...apologizing for even spending a second of his time with Angela, when he should have been with Gabriel. He would make it up to Gabriel now, however, taking all those terrible lavender-scented clothes and mussing them up until they once more carried the fragrance of sweaty, messy intimacy with the man he loved._

This was all nonsense, of course, seeing as Peter had a key, but Gabriel remained curious nonetheless. He quickly looked through the peephole, quite surprised when he saw a young girl standing outside the door. She had to be around nineteen, wispy black hair tied back in a ponytail as she impatiently shoved her hands into her jean pockets.

_Gabriel didn't know this girl...he wondered if Peter did and how_. Since the girl didn't know who Gabriel was, the tall man decided that there wasn't _that _much of a betrayal of Peter's wishes if he opened the door.

Gabriel cracked the door open only slightly. "Hello?"

The girl jerked her head up, a smile spreading across her face. "Hi!" She enthused, craning her neck as if to see into the apartment. "Is Peter home?"

"Who're you?" Gabriel demanded, not liking her familiarity at all. If she was a friend of Peter's, Peter had certainly never mentioned her..._but then again, maybe she probably lived in the real world and not the secret world like Gabriel. _

"I'm Jennifer DeLuca." She offered, trying once more to angle herself to see around the apparently antisocial man that was blocking her entrance. "I live down the hall...is Peter home?"

_She had already asked that. _"No, he's not." Gabriel replied, but he began to feel as if maybe he should be a bit more courteous towards her...she was Peter's neighbor, after all, and he shouldn't blame her for his current foul mood. "Can I help?"

"Oh, no, I was just making cannelloni and I wanted to know if he'd like some." Jennifer began to wring her hands, as if slightly embarrassed. "He mentioned to me that it was..."

"...his favorite." Gabriel finished, his eyes darting up to watch her, curiously. _He wondered how long she and Peter had been friends, to know such information_. "How long have you known Peter?"

"Oh, gosh, just since last week. He saw me strugglin' on the stairs with all my stuff and he helped me move in to my apartment." She tucked some thick black hair behind her ear. _That made Gabriel feel better, Peter hadn't known her long enough to mention. _"I offered to pay for his help, but he refused. But he mentioned he liked cannelloni, so I thought I could pay him that way..."

"Peter won't be home until later this evening." Gabriel explained, gently. "But you can drop the cannelloni off whenever you want...I'll be here all day."

"Thanks." Jennifer rubbed her hand up against the arm behind her back, self-consciously. "What's your name?"

"Gabriel." Gabriel replied, beginning to close the door once more.

"Oh...are you and Peter brothers?" She called out, bouncing on the balls of her feet, as she craned her neck around the door to get her final question in.

Gabriel paused, a rueful smile finding its way to his lips. _Brothers...why did those memories hurt even worse than the ones in which he and Peter were trying to destroy each other? _"No, we're not." Was all he said, forcing another smile before he effectively closed the door on her.

Gabriel ran his fingers through his messy, dark hair and pushed it back into place. He hadn't realized how emotionally exhausted he was until that moment, as he swiped at his eyes once more, hoping he hadn't been too boorish towards the young girl.

Gabriel sucked in a deep breath, his hands fisting at his sides. _Well, dinner was taken care of at least. The girl clearly had a small crush on Peter, but that didn't bother Gabriel. After all, Peter was the knight in shining armor to every unfortunate soul in distress...Gabriel included. Who wouldn't find that attractive? It wasn't until you got to know Peter that you found out how messed up he could be too; what with needing to save the world to the point it drove him to insanity, all that repressed anger that always found its way to the surface, every issue with his family that still haunted him to this day, and a need to come into his own and prove himself even as he sacrificed mind and body to help all those around him first. No nineteen year old girl could handle that. No, only someone as equally messed up as Gabriel could be his partner._

_But if Jennifer brought the cannelloni_ _over before Peter got home, Gabriel was definitely taking credit for it. Maybe it would make Peter feel guilty for leaving him alone all day._

Gabriel thought back on Peter's question to Nathan..._how do you make it special for the other person..._how can you fix what you don't know is broken. It most certainly does not work itself out. It breaks more and more, shattering into thousands of little unfixable pieces. He remembered Peter's words of this morning..._the intimacy of the night before had changed something for the young man, Gabriel had been so attentive and Peter felt closer than ever to him_. What had Gabriel done differently..._and why couldn't he do it all the time_? And how come Peter had gotten to grow up with someone to talk to..._to go to baseball games and fishing trips with, to eat cherry popsicles with, to even discuss questions of intimacy with without feeling shameful and dirty__**, **__not just hearing about sex from kids at school who never understood it could be paired with love. _It seemed as if having such guidance at an early age gave Peter an understanding that Gabriel was still struggling to make sense of. _Nathan had said that love always comes again, and more strongly than before...he knew Peter would understand later. But Gabriel didn't understand why you could love someone only to lose them and say 'I love you' to them only to forget them later. And he didn't know why all that could happen but when you said 'I love you' once more to a new person, this time you could be certain you meant it for __real__? Did all that make sense to Peter?_

None of this made any sense at all to Gabriel, and he began to feel his mind hurt his body once more. The only thing that _did _make sense was that it had always been Peter..._Peter had always been the song of salvation since the beginning_...and when he had thought Peter to be his brother, it had given him a chance to pause, to reflect on their relationship, to stop feeling confused and lustful and to begin caring about the young man as he always had deep inside.

"_Peter, stop!" Angela had cried out, rushing into the cell room. "You don't know what you're..." But Peter silenced her in his anger, his hand outstretching to hold her in place with telekinesis._

"_You don't know what you're doing." Angela finished, scared and breathless. Peter strode towards her, brimming with a scalding ire, his arm still holding her as his bright eyes continued to burn into her._

"_I know...exactly what I'm doing." Peter hissed, those expressive hazel eyes trained on Angela now. Angela watched him and she was frightened...something uncomfortable panged in Sylar's stomach...he knew what it felt like to see fear in a mother's eyes._

"_When were you gonna tell me that Sylar's my brother?" Peter asked, his voice low and husky. He was becoming more focused and collected...the hunger was beginning to pinpoint its wants. "What secrets are you hiding from me, __mother__?"_

_The word mother was said with such disdain, and as much as Peter loved his family, there was the first sign that not all had always been happy and functioning in the Petrelli household. The Petrelli family held secrets, and perhaps no one had been burned worse by them than sensitive, once-innocent Peter._

_Angela watched her little boy with widening eyes as the angry young man moved forward, his face now inches from hers. She had to have felt his radiating infuriation, and knew that his power was simply exacerbating feelings, not creating them._

"_TELL ME YOU'RE SECRETS!" Peter roared, spit flying from his mouth and flecking towards her face._

_Angela closed her mouth and began to tremble, it was the only time that Sylar had seen her look as if she could cry. This was Peter, her innocent one. And he was so angry right now, so furious, and he had never raised his voice to her, had never stood so threateningly before her, and she must've been feeling even more frightened for him than she did for herself._

"_Or I'll rip open your head and I'll take them out myself." Peter growled, and his face told Angela that she had made a dangerous decision. If she died, it would be because she was not telling Peter what he needed to know...Sylar had understood that reasoning himself in the past._

_Peter began to raise his hand in a fashion all too hauntingly familiar. Sylar knew what feelings must be rushing through Peter right now...a need to know, know, know, and cut, cut, cut...but while Sylar had always felt so calculating and controlled in his soothing quest to understand, Peter seemed to be teeming with emotive response, eyes flashing wildly...lips parting in panting and belabored breath. Peter was always so emotional...even now as he prepared to cut open his own mother's skull._

"_No!" Angela cried out, her whole form quivering now. She began to scream out in pain, a terrible crimson mark forming on her forehead as her youngest son...her baby...began to cut into her for answers._

_Sylar rose back to his feet, his neck still hanging morbidly to one side. He pushed it back into place, drinking in the scene for a moment before he moved to action. Peter was hurting Mom...and that upset him deeply inside. Peter was hurting Mom using Sylar's own ability...using Sylar's own methods...it made him roar with a sick guilt and anger and he quickly raised his arm to send Peter flying backwards towards the glass window...it cracked upon impact, as Sylar hadn't even realized the amount of force he had been using, his dark and confused emotions guiding his power instead. Peter fell to the floor in a heap, unconscious._

_Sylar felt fear flood him...his mother couldn't be hurt...he had just found her and he needed her so badly...he rushed over to Angela and grabbed her by her arms. She let out a small, surprised gasp, her breathing heavy and her dark, brown eyes glassy. Sylar continued to watch her, trying to gauge how badly she had been injured._

"_Are you okay?" He murmured, tenderly. He loved her, and she needed to be alright. She couldn't be hurt...he had just found her, and he __needed__ her._

_Angela gave a weak nod, touching her head. Sylar felt himself begin to relax, realizing she had not been mortally wounded._

_Both mother and older brother turned to Peter at the same time. The young man still lay unconscious, and Sylar knew that both he and Angela were feeling the sick, horrible sensation that one gets when a family member is very ill, and one doesn't know how to heal them yet._

"_Is he going to be alright?" Sylar asked, softly, his eyes never leaving Peter's still form. He had been mocking Peter, earlier...after a year nothing...and a wave of guilt was now crashing down upon him. He hadn't liked hurting Peter this time...older brothers didn't hurt their little brothers, after all._

"_Yes. I'll make sure of it." Angela replied, one last whimper moving past her lips. She was still holding a hand to her head, her eyes filled with anguish._

_Sylar never took his eyes off of Peter. After so much hating...and then a year of nothing...now they were brothers. They were brothers and they needed to love each other, they needed to love each other even if neither knew how to even begin._

_He noticed Noah Bennett approaching the glass window, and he finally tore his eyes away from the man who lay below on the floor. Angela had been sending Sylar on missions with Noah...it was good for Sylar. It was helping him to learn how to be a hero. Sylar gave Noah a small nod to show the man that he understood._

_He gave Peter one last glance before he left. He had hurt Peter to save their mother, and Peter would understand. Eventually, Peter would come to love him as an older brother, because Sylar would hurt him no more._

Gabriel's deep, brown gaze stared at the setting sun outside the apartment window, as he sat cross-legged on the hard tiles of the floor, his face one of impassive watching.

Peter had been gone for so long now...every minute ticking on the clock reverberating a thousand times louder in Gabriel's ears..._why had Peter not come home yet_?

He was starting to feel a stirring of fear, what if Peter was hurt and that was why the young man hadn't returned yet? What if he had never even made it to Angela's house?

While Gabriel's face remained impassive, his inner emotions were churning within him with strong bouts of turmoil. This wasn't right at all..._Peter shouldn't have been gone this long..._could he not return to Gabriel or did he simply not wish to?

If Angela had somehow convinced Peter not to return to Gabriel..._he would burst into Angela's apartment at once; grabbing Peter and making the young man return home until he was forced to realize that he loved Gabriel more than he ever could love Angela..._the clock's ticking was antagonizing slow, it seemed. Gabriel should fix it..._but Gabriel was trying to tell himself that every clock did not need fixing; it was just his emotions that needed calming_.

Peter had been gone for so long now. Peter was never gone this long, unless he was working a double shift at the hospital. _Was he still at Angela's or had he left already and just not returned home...not wanting another argument with Gabriel?_ Maybe he was hoping if he stayed away long enough that Gabriel would just go back to his own apartment. _Peter could be so mean. Didn't he know how much Gabriel loved him, whether the words were ever said or not? Gabriel knew he was forgiven...even thought Peter never told him he was...it should work the same way with saying 'I love you'. Peter should just know. It was mean to do this now, not returning home and making Gabriel sick to his stomach imagining that today was finally the day that something bad happened. Imagining that all the happiness was taken away again leaving only loneliness and desperation in its wake._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The sun was now disappearing beneath the New York City skyscrapers. Gabriel tightly squeezed his dark eyes shut. _Why had Peter not come home? And should Gabriel look for him?_

That god-forsaken clock still sounded off so loudly in his mind. _Tick, tock, tick, tock_. It was almost mocking and Gabriel suddenly wished to live in a house in which no clocks existed. He was so sick of clocks..._so sick of waiting_...and sick of worrying and being agitated for likely no reason. Peter was fine; he just was not caring about how Gabriel was feeling at all most likely.

_He would make Peter come home. Peter couldn't leave him, Peter had said 'I love you' to the last person he ever would, Gabriel would make certain of that. Peter was his now, the young man belonged to him fully whether he realized it or not. No matter where Peter went, the universe was sure to put him on Gabriel's path once again. It was impossible for one to escape the other. Someday Peter would realize this; that he was now and always had been Gabriel's, and that was the end of it._

Gabriel took in a deep breath. It was warm outside, and Gabriel could feel the sweat begin to collect on his forehead, chest, and upper back. The small beaded droplets began to roll down his form, dampening the white tank top he was wearing. The sun's disappearance was beginning to cast long shadows within Peter's apartment, shrouding Gabriel in both darkness and silence as he laid in wait for Peter's return.

He was trying to keep his mind very quiet, not wishing to dwell on unpleasant or confusing memories any longer. He needed to silence himself, and the mix of every memory..._his own, Nathan's, some he could barely make sense of_...were all making everything around him seem very loud and upsetting. No, he needed quietness...composure. He tried to grab onto something of Peter's..._Peter was the perfect soothing outlet_. He had a fantasy regarding Peter..._one he had never told, but simply kept for himself_. He kept his eyes closed, his lean chest rising and falling calmingly as his nose breathed in and out the warm, humid air that was floating in from the outside windows. _He tried to recall every detail of the fantasy...the way Peter's eyes held such a soft, childlike gaze...the way the filth caked his naked form...the way he sounded when he was unsuspectingly touched..._

_Peter was completely naked, the lean muscles of his chest and back fully on display. He was strong and sturdy-looking, his shoulders and chest broad and his stomach taut. His skin was smooth except for the small trail of hair under his navel that whispered down to his lower regions. He had sharp hipbones, and his legs were firm. His dark hair was shrouding some of his face, but those sharp eyes were on full display; the eyes that could tell so many different stories depending on the emotions they were expressing or simply the lighting of the room. His lips parted slightly...they were very soft, very full...and his jaw line was sharp like the rest of the bone structure in his facial features. He leaned backwards into his bed...eyes closed, his breathing relaxed...as his head sank deeply back into the coolness of the pillow. He was slightly dirt-streaked from working hard all day; the reason he had stripped and fallen into bed. He didn't realize he was being watched, the sincere purity of his being bared making him even more enticing. He placed one hand behind his head, his other rested on the tight muscles of his stomach; it was smeared with grime by the touch of his soiled hands. Everywhere his hand grazed left behind a small trail of dirt...he was so beautiful in his immaculateness and yet so powerfully sensual in the way the wet, grains of dirt clung to his naked form. It was hard to stay hidden from him, simply watching as the hand behind his head moved forward to brush away his pool of dark hair, leaving it sweaty and dirt-streaked. His neck was craning up towards the ceiling as he dipped his head further back into the pillow. The hand on his stomach was beginning to caress the taut skin found there in light touches, and Gabriel could simply not stay hidden in the shadows any longer. He took hold of Peter's hand with his mind's power and slipped it down ever so slightly to give the smallest, gentlest of brushes against Peter's sensitive area. Peter's eyes flashed open; his mouth parting to release a surprised and pleased gasp._

"Gabriel?"

The familiar huskiness of the voice made Gabriel jump; his whole body jerked around as if he was guilty of being caught doing something wrong.

"P-Peter..." Gabriel murmured, scrambling to get to his feet. He swung his long legs out from their cross-legged position to push himself up, his dark eyes searching the young man in front of him wonderingly.

_He hadn't even heard Peter enter the room. He had once sensed Peter's very presence without having seen him for a year, how come he hadn't heard the young man come home just now?_

"Peter." Gabriel whispered again, trying to steal his voice this time. "You're home...it's...it's very late."

Peter gave a small, conceding nod. It was so strange to see him again, after Gabriel had been home alone for so long and with such unwelcome thoughts. Peter almost seemed like a ghost at the moment.

"I know I was gone awhile." Peter admitted, quirked his head to the side, his eyes searching Gabriel's questioningly. He seemed to notice the other's discomfort. "Are you okay, man? Why were you on the floor when I came in?"

Gabriel gave a small shake of his head, trying to quickly clear it. _He gave an embarrassed jolt when he realized his fantasizing had led to the beginnings of his arousal. _He quickly turned away from Peter and hurried towards the kitchen area.

"Gabriel?" Peter called out, following after the taller man.

Gabriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes_...he needed to calm down, from both the erotic and the tormenting, although sometimes they intermixed with disturbing ease. _He felt his arousal die down. He slowly opened his eyes once more, turning to face Peter.

Peter was staring at him with a concerned gaze, lips pursed tightly together. He waited another moment before speaking again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course." Gabriel shrugged, not realizing how much his anxieties had built up inside of him over the course of the day until this moment. "I'm fine. How was your visit?"

"It was good." Peter replied, giving a cautious nod.

"It was long." Gabriel added, wiping his palms against his pant legs.

Peter gave another small nod. "We had a lot to talk about today."

"How is she?" Gabriel pressed, trying to shut out all the horrible memories that were threatening to overwhelm and drown him. "Your mother."

Peter worried his bottom lip, uncertainly. "She's fine." He placed his hands firmly on his hips. "Look, what's goin' on? What were you up to when I came in just now?"

"Nothing." Gabriel insisted, a slight edge seeping into his voice. He tried to suppress it..._he didn't wish to argue with Peter again. _"I said that already; stop asking me over and over."

Peter narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could the door bell sounded. Peter rolled his shoulder with slight unease, giving Gabriel one last look of worry.

"It's probably Jennifer." Gabriel said, not caring how Peter would feel about him knowing that Gabriel had answered the door while the young man had been away. "She made us dinner...or _you_ dinner, I mean."

Peter blinked in surprise, instantly turning towards the door. The doorbell sounded again, and Peter hurried over to open it.

"Hello?" Peter asked, angling himself so that only a peek of the apartment could be seen from the doorframe. _This wasn't done to conceal Gabriel...it was to hide the messy kitchen counters...or possibly not. But Gabriel found it really didn't matter that much. He was tired from an entire day of such worries, and his psyche needed a break._

"Peter!" Even without seeing her, Gabriel recognized the youthful, cheery voice to belong to Jennifer. "Here…I made cannelloni and wanted to share it with you. Um, you know, for helping me carry all my stuff into my apartment last week. It's just...just a little thank you."

Peter gave a small shake of his head, a small lopsided grin painting his face. "Aww, Jen, this is sweet. You didn't have to do that."

"No, I actually did. You were my hero back there. I would probably be lying on the couch with a pulled muscle without you doing all the heavy lifting." Jennifer craned her neck around Peter and seemed to spot Gabriel. "Hi, Gabriel!" She enthused, waving excitedly.

"Hello, Jennifer." Gabriel nodded, giving a small wave in return. He felt a wave of displeasure wash over him when Peter turned around in surprise..._of course, how should Gabriel have known her...Peter certainly never introduced him to anyone._

"So, yeah, here..." Jennifer smiled, pushing the foiled container into Peter's larger hands. "It's my mother's recipe, so I hope I did it justice."

"Um, yeah...no, this is amazing." Peter insisted, weighing the container in his hands. "I mean, cannelloni is my favorite."

_It was such a wonderful thing; Gabriel had known that about Peter without ever asking. That's how d—mn close they were to each other._

"I know, I remember you mentioning it." Jennifer replied, her bright green eyes wide with enthusiasm. "And I finally unpacked the pots and pans, so I thought I'd break in the stove."

"Right." Peter nodded, appreciatively. "So, so you're all moved in okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm good. Half the appliances still don't work, but I think I'm gettin' there." Jennifer twisted her hands together behind her body in an awkward fashion. "Okay, well...I'll definitely probably be seein' you guys around. Bye, Peter. Bye, Gabriel!"

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you again." Peter replied, giving his endearing, boyish half-smile. "Take care, Jen."

Peter stepped back into the apartment, using his hip to push the door shut. He turned to Gabriel and gave a small smile; his arms lifting to show the other the warm meal. "Isn't she the sweetest little thing? I saw her all by herself on the stairway pushin' a futon to the third floor. Poor thing, she moved all by herself with no family in the area."

"Good thing she ran into such a nice, strong Good Samaritan like you." Gabriel murmured, a rush of sarcasm finding the way into his words once more.

Peter's face grew weary as he set the container down on the counter. _He was just as tired as Gabriel...seeing as their boxing matches always lasted far longer than fifteen rounds._

_Gabriel didn't want to hurt Peter. But he wanted to punish him...Peter had been gone all day and Gabriel had been all alone. Peter had hurt him._

"You should ask her out." Gabriel blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he had enough sense to stop them. "She likes you."

Peter closed his eyes, his hands tightening around the heated cannelloni container as he worked to remove the foil. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't notice she liked you?" Gabriel pressed, trying to keep his tone even and innocent.

_All of this was just a game, a game to see how much Peter cared about him. Gabriel hated games, hated things that weren't real anymore...but the frightened child in him needed games...needed games to feel better about the scary world._

Peter took in a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he ripped open the kitchen drawer to find something to cut the cannelloni. "Look if you're gonna be..." His hand continued to rummage through the drawer, finally pulling out a sharpened knife..._the imagery was odd_. "...a bastard right now, don't even talk to me."

Gabriel felt his heart drop in his chest. "You don't have to be so mean, Peter."

"And you don't have to be so childish." Peter retorted, his tone patronizing..._Gabriel hated that_. Peter placed some cannelloni on a plate. "Here, take this. Careful, it's hot."

"I'm _not _a child, Peter." Gabriel snapped, ripping the dish out of Peter's hands. _It was hot_. He ignored the pain, leaning back against the counter and poked at the cannelloni with his fork. _Gabriel should learn how to make cannelloni. He only knew how to make ziti, because that was the only dish he had made with his mother when he was growing up. That was because ziti was his favorite dish, and he wanted to know how it worked...what all the ingredients were that went into it._

Peter leaned up against the counter across from Gabriel. He shoved a forkful of cannelloni into his mouth. "So what'd you do today?"

_Besides slowly go insane waiting for Peter to return._ Gabriel gave a few heavy blinks, also tasting the dinner. _It was good. His mother had made it better, but his mother had made all Italian dishes better. _"I read my book, like I said I was going to."

"Oh, yeah? Did you get to finish it?" Peter asked, and Gabriel knew that the young man was trying to make an effort to reconnect with him once more.

"No, not yet." Gabriel replied, using his fork to cut into the food.

Peter gave a small shrug. "What's the name of the book?"

"_The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ._" Gabriel explained, heavily swallowing in-between bites. "It's about two brothers with contrasting personalities, Jesus being the moral and godly brother and Christ being the calculating brother who wishes to use Jesus' good reputation to trick people into thinking Christ is Jesus and is divine. He then uses that to build a powerful and oppressive church."

Peter's eyes darkened as he made a face. "What? Like the Catholic Church?"

Gabriel gave a small nod, poking at another cannelloni piece. "It metaphorically represents the Catholic Church. The author is trying to say that the Jesus who lived isn't represented in the Christ people worship today. He wasn't divine, just a good man."

Peter gave a small shake of his head, clearly disturbed by Gabriel's words. "That's not good, man. I don't think you should be readin' stuff like that. That sounds bad."

Gabriel pursed his lips in slight annoyance. _Did Peter understand metaphors at all or the value of reading literature that had deep and uncomfortable questions? _"It's a good book. It makes you think about things you might have never questioned before."

"But you're not supposed to question it." Peter retorted, his eyes appearing darker in the shadowy light. "That's just it."

"You're not supposed to question it?" Gabriel gave a rough laugh, watching Peter incredulously. "Peter, that's ridiculous."

"No, it's not ridiculous. I mean, saying Jesus wasn't divine? Or...or saying the Catholic Church was created by Jesus' evil brother, Christ?" Peter gave another shake of his head, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I'm tellin' you, you can't play around with that stuff."

_Angela had always been adamant about that fact. Catholicism had played as deep a role in Peter's life growing up as it had in Gabriel's, with one exception. Religion had just been a norm for Peter, but for Gabriel it had been both his salvation and suffocation. Gabriel's mother had used it to smother him, but his own personal relationship with God had been something that had kept him sane in an often mad household. He and God always used to have personal conversations...Gabriel could practically hear the Lord's voice in his heart. God was the only person who always understood...who always listened. But then Gabriel began to serve the powers, and God abandoned him...ignored his desperate confessions...condemned Gabriel to Hell just as everyone else had. Had Gabriel and God shared nothing, for God to give up on him so fast? It was later that Gabriel determined that God had never existed...it was comforting to imagine an Omnipotent Being watching over all of humanity, keeping it safe and secure. But in reality, the only thing that was protecting humanity were other human beings...a scary concept, but a necessary one to grasp if humanity was to someday save itself._

"Honestly, Peter." Gabriel chastised, crossing one of his long legs over the other. "You can't just blindly defend your faith. It would do you some _good _to question it, that way your defense of it would be based on something stronger than mindless allegiance."

"Hey, I did twelve years of Catholic school." Peter replied, a small grin crossing his face. "I put in my time."

The tall, young man gave a small shake of his head. _Peter was content in his ways. Good and evil, God, religion, it was all a series of definitive facts to Peter._

"Look, don't knock it." Peter insisted, but at least he was smiling again. "But I'm serious man; we need all the help we can get right now. Let's not tick off the Almighty."

"Well, maybe not all of us believe in God anymore." Gabriel gave a saddened smile, placing the fork down on his now empty plate.

Peter pursed his lips in a sign of discomfort. "That's not good. Gabriel, I'm serious, life is hard enough _with_ God around. I mean, everythin' we have...our ability to save people, our ability to love, what you and me have together...God gave us all of that."

"I'm almost certain _God_ had nothing to do with you and me." Gabriel replied, quirking his eyebrow at Peter. "We're together because _we_ want to be, not because _God _wants us to be."

_Because God often took things away in wrathful punishment. Because God was angry and vengeful. And because Gabriel wanted the fact that Peter had finally returned the other man's desperate love as the reason they were together. Because God was dead, the powers had killed him like they had murdered so many other things._

"_God_ wants us to be together." Peter insisted, his voice carrying strong conviction. "I've prayed about you and me, you know. I've asked him if we should be together, if I was doing the right thing..."

Peter trailed off uncomfortably, his eyes blinking heavily at his admission. He placed his own plate down on the counter next to him before rubbing his hands together.

_Peter prayed about them. _"And?" Gabriel pressed, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "And what did God say?"

Peter lowered his eyes in a gentle shyness. "God gave us both a second chance at life. We're supposed to...help each other be good now. I know that's the reason we're together. We both stumbled and fell, and now God wants us to help each other stand back up."

Peter raised his eyes again towards Gabriel, a tender softness entering it. _Oh, Peter's eyes. They were a cornucopia of emotive response, of brilliant colors. They held a light, hazelnut brown but around his irises swam rich ambers, golden greens, and dark auburns. It had taken a long time for Gabriel to notice all of the colors but now...now he saw all of them._

The young man moved towards Gabriel slowly, soft hands whispering around to Gabriel's tightly folded arms, guiding them back down to his sides. Peter was so beautiful..._his eyes were so sensual; they pierced Gabriel's heart with secrets of deep intimacy and a stimulating tenderness. He was both innocent angel and mischievous demon. His eyes always burned with an all-consuming love coupled with a dark, sexualized want. All Gabriel had to do was look in Peter's eyes and he saw everything...all the colors, all the sides of his personality, all the facets of his love for Gabriel. It had taken a long time to notice all of it, but now...now Gabriel saw it all._

Peter leaned forward slowly, his lips parting to sensually taste Gabriel's; to treat the latter like a well that Peter wished to drink deeply from. The young man's hands moved to tightly intertwine within Gabriel's..._they tightly held hands, squeezing their palms together in needed connection. _Peter's lips continued to burn against Gabriel's..._those lips; Gabriel was obsessed with those lips. Smooth and swollen with passion, they always caressed with a gentle shyness...later to devour with a rough demanding._

"I pray about you and me..." Peter continued to murmur, his lips like a prayer now; continuing to graze against Gabriel's with the slightest of erotic pressure. "I pray I can be good to you...I can be the man you need me to be." Peter opened his mouth to take in Gabriel's, in-between kisses pausing to breathe out heated words. "I pray we can understand each other...we can overcome our difficulties together...I always pray for us, Gabriel..."

Gabriel closed his eyes, his breathing coming out rather heatedly as he returned Peter's insistent kisses; his mouth moving in passionate tandem. _There was no God, but Peter was truly salvation_. "Peter...I _want_ to be good to you..."

Peter slipped his lips away, his arms coming up to wrap around Gabriel's neck. He buried his face into the top of Gabriel's lean chest. Gabriel gave a small gasp, placing his cheek down gently onto the chocolate silk of Peter's hair.

There was a long stretch of silence...each man quietly atoning for the hurt they had caused that day...the simple embrace of the moment desperately craved by both.

Gabriel continued to breathe in deeply the scent of shampoo that lingered in the thick mess of Peter's hair. He started to feel dampness seeping into his shirt; it suddenly and jarringly occurred to him that Peter was softly crying into his chest.

"Peter..." Gabriel murmured, bringing his arms up to wrap protectively around the young man's back. "Oh, Peter...no..."

"God, I miss Nathan."

The words were unexpected, and Gabriel felt as if he had been punched in the stomach, his lungs were suddenly so deplete of oxygen. There was an uncertainty of how to respond, an unease of whether to just stay quiet..._what did Peter expect him to do?_

But Peter spoke first, his voice giving small quivers as he choked out his feelings. "It's Nathan's birthday next Saturday. That's why my mom needed to see me so badly...why I needed to see her too. It's the first time..." Peter gave a muffled choked sound, and Gabriel felt his arms tighten around the young man instinctively. "...the first time Nathan won't be here."

Gabriel shut his eyes tightly trying to block out all his own emotions..._he just needed to focus on Peter's. Oh, the world hurt so bad. And relationships were so hard. And everything was consistently messed up by two boys who both loved each other and loved to hurt each other._

"I...I don't know..." Peter continued to cry; his chest heaving softly against Gabriel's long form. _Peter had never cried like this in front of Gabriel...not about Nathan. He had certainly shed tears about Nathan before, but this was different. This was like a knife slicing through an old scar...and watching the scar bleed all over again. It hurt to see Peter like this. _

"I don't know...what to do..." Peter moaned, and Gabriel's tank top was wet and clingy from where the young man's eyes pressed into him. "I miss my brother...s-so much. It s-still hurts...even now. Ah, Gabriel, it _never_ stops hurting."

_No, it never stops hurting. Hurt lasts for a lifetime, new hurts simply building upon old hurts until a person is encumbered by pain and regret that act as eternal shackles._

_Gabriel hurt over Nathan too. Even if he had never connected personally with Nathan, watching Peter hurt over Nathan made the whole experience raw. Gabriel would forever hurt over Nathan just like Peter...because of Peter._

"Peter...I'm..." _He wanted to say he was sorry, but the words seemed so strange now. _"I don't want you to hurt. Tell me..." He buried his face onto the top of Peter's hair; his mouth and nose smothered in dark locks. "Tell me how to help you stop hurting."

But Peter didn't seem to know the answer either, instead he continued to pour muffled cries into the only safe chalice he could...Gabriel. Gabriel was no longer a religious man, but he couldn't help but wonder if somewhere Nathan's soul was cursing him for holding his brother so tightly..._for making love to the little brother Nathan had always tried to protect_...for separating two brothers that a lifetime of love and sacrifice had bonded together so resolutely that not even death could break apart their invisible thread.

_Was it wrong to hold Peter when Nathan would hate him for doing so? It was so wrong...so wrong to even think...but sometimes Gabriel wished there had never been a Nathan. Just a Gabriel and a Peter and nothing would've existed that could make their love wrong. But this thought was beyond selfish, and Gabriel never wished to dwell on it. It made him sick that he had ever allowed it to brush against his consciousness at all, burying it swiftly and deeply._

"And I can't even...can't e-even pray for the hurt to g-go away." Peter murmured; his voice dark and trembling. "Because I don't _want_ it to. I never want it to stop...to lessen...I n-need to hurt for Nathan. I always need to hurt for him."

"Do you think Nathan would want that?" Gabriel whispered, the words finally finding a way to be voiced. "He always said for you to wipe your tears away and..."

Gabriel felt Peter stiffen beneath him as his words died upon his lips. _Oh, god. No. No, no, no, no...this is what happened when Gabriel was careless with his memories...Nathan and Gabriel had become one in the same today for too many hours...every memory Nathan had was freely flitting through his mind...and now he had let one slip out...and he hurt Peter. He hurt Peter again and again when all he ever wanted to do was just __love__ Peter..._

"No, my god, Peter, I didn't mean that." Gabriel breathed out, quickly. "I was thinking about him today too. And when that happens, I...I swear, it wasn't on purpose."

"I know." Peter snorted, his voice dark and raspy. He lifted his face to show a deep harshness falling into his eyes. His jaw tightened as he brought the back of his hand up to swipe at his red, blotchy eyes. "But you're right anyway. Whenever I'd cry about somethin' as a kid he used to tell me to wipe my tears away and do somethin' about it. And he was right."

Gabriel held his breath, his dark, chocolate eyes watching Peter intensely.

"Get ready to go out." Peter nodded, continuing to wipe any trace of remaining tears off of his damp cheeks. "We're gonna patrol the city tonight."

A small flutter rushed through Gabriel's heart..._he loved going on patrol with Peter. It meant they got to be heroes, and it had been awhile since they had gone out, what with the demanding hours of Peter's work the past week_. _Still, Gabriel decided to taper his enthusiasm and be sure that Peter was emotionally stabilized._

"Are you sure this is what you need right now, Peter?" Gabriel asked, tentatively.

"Yeah. The night my brother died, he told me to be a hero." Peter brushed his eyes again quickly; his tears still unwilling to stop falling. "So we're gonna go be heroes."

_Whenever Peter's schedule permitted, Peter and Gabriel would take to the New York City streets as modern day Supermen and use their abilities to save the innocents. Gabriel especially loved this, as it gave him the opportunity to do more good deeds, to save more people, in the hopes that it would someday be enough to outweigh his dark past. Maybe if by the end of his life Gabriel had saved more innocents than he had slain, he would finally be worthy of Peter's love...and be able to say I love you in return._

It was a warm night, so Gabriel was content to go out in his tank-top and jeans. Peter decided to stay in Gabriel's short-sleeved, button-down shirt and jeans as well. Gabriel watched Peter closely as the young man drank from the water jug in his refrigerator; no doubt mentally psyching himself up for the night to come.

"Do you want to take a new power?" Gabriel asked, as he approached Peter. He knew that Peter had last taken telekinesis from him some days ago. Peter had used to be able to absorb the abilities of others and retain them..._just like Sylar, they were Titans among the demigods after all_...but Peter's father, Arthur Petrelli, had since robbed Peter of his original ability. Peter could only retain one power at a time now..._but he was still the greatest hero of them all, in Gabriel's opinion. Only Peter could receive a lesser ability and still be just as strong as he had been before. Only Peter, visibly bleeding from Sylar's inflicted bites, could show Sylar, the monster his true reflection and then strip him of his fangs._

If Gabriel was to concede to Peter any religious convictions, if these powers were indeed a "godsend", then it would make sense for God to wish Peter and Gabriel to find each other. Gabriel was the chalice of powers that Peter could drink from..._and Gabriel was learning how to give rather than take, and Peter was able to have all of God's weapons in his armory once more._

Peter gave a quick nod of his head at Gabriel's suggestion. He reached out to grab onto Gabriel's arm and the latter felt his powers flow through him and into Peter..._it was such an intimate experience every time. To give to Peter and feel it physically surge from him and pour into Peter was intensely connecting._

"Which one did you take?" Gabriel wondered, as Peter and he headed towards the door of the apartment complex.

As if to answer Gabriel's question, Peter opened his palm upward, a small, crackling orb of blue electricity surging forth. He gave a small grin to Gabriel before walking out the door.

_Electricity. It was an interesting choice. Usually when they went out Peter took more defensive powers; but Peter always had a reason for what he chose._

The two men briskly walked down the stairs of the complex, leading out into the open night air. Peter was keeping his hands jammed in his jean pockets; his face was a portrait of stoicism. Gabriel noted the tension teeming in the young man's face; Peter was obviously still shaken up from his day with Angela, and most likely their discussion concerning Nathan's upcoming birthday. But whenever Peter decided to act rather than mourn, he often relied on the presence of darker emotions to carry him through; whatever turmoil he had inside of him he allowed to surface in order to propel him through his heroic quest.

The night was warm and humid; the full light of the moon illuminating the usually dark shadows of the city street corners..._as if even the universe wished to help Peter and Gabriel on their mission to bring justice to nighttime prowlers._

"It's a nice night out." Gabriel murmured, casting a still curious glance towards Peter. "It's quiet too."

"It won't stay that way." Peter grumbled darkly, glancing furtively over his shoulder. "There's somethin' about full moons that bring out the crazies, you know."

"Well, _we're_ out." Gabriel agreed, self-depreciatingly.

Peter gave a low chuckle. "Yeah, I guess we're about as crazy as they come, aren't we?"

Gabriel shared in his laughter, bringing down his hand to grip onto Peter's, pulling it out of his jean pocket and into the taller man's large grasp.

Peter seemed to appreciate this gesture, allowing Gabriel to cradle the young man's hand in his own. They continued to walk on in silence, sure to take roads that would lead them away from the main, well-lit streets and into the dark places that monsters so loved to seek refuge in..._as Gabriel often had._

Gabriel turned towards Peter..._he loved Peter so much. He cherished this feeling, Peter's hand clinging to his own, as they walked in a determinedly purposeful fashion, Peter's face so dark and concentrated...Gabriel knew his own was flush with anticipation._

Gabriel could tell that Peter needed something to distract him, to take his mind both off of the task at hand, as well as off of Nathan. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, his eyes finally directing towards the illuminating glow of the moon.

"There's an ancient Chinese legend about a beautiful girl named Chang'e." Gabriel began, his dark eyes watching the round, orb in the darkened sky. "Her husband had an elixir made which was to make him immortal. But she stole it and consumed it herself, and in his fury, her husband sent to have her killed. But she jumped from the palace, and instead of falling and shattering to the Earth she rose up to the heavens and landed on the moon. She became the Moon Mother and the Chinese people worship her during the Moon Festival. She's been living there for over four thousand years now."

"Wow." Peter mused, running his free hand through his dark hair as his eyes lifted to join Gabriel's. "Bet it would get lonely up there after four thousand years."

"She's not lonely." Gabriel replied, giving a small ghost of a smile. "There's a jade rabbit that lives there with her as a companion. But she still misses her husband."

"Why'd she steal the elixir from him then?" Peter asked; his head quirking to the side.

"Because she was watching him lose himself to his self-centeredness and greed. He would've wanted more; he wouldn't have stopped with immortality. But she was good and pure; it was okay for her to have it." Gabriel gave a sad smile. "She saved both him and the world."

"It's an interesting trade-off." Peter agreed, giving a slow nod. "She gets to be worshipped and to be immortal. But she also has an eternity to miss her husband..."

"And to lament what went wrong between them." Gabriel finished.

"She saved the world but she lost her family." Peter murmured, his eyes dropping back down away from the moon's silver glow.

_Just like Peter had...being a hero was always a trade-off. Chang'e could've watched her husband become immortal, could've watched him destroy all of China with his greed and arrogance that would now span an eternity. To her, immortality was a curse...a curse she took upon herself in order to save the world from her husband. She received a hero's worship...but is that ever enough to quell the scars of broken love and perpetual loneliness?_

Gabriel's thoughts were interrupted by Peter reaching out to grab roughly onto his arm. The former gave a quick start, his adrenaline already flowing through his veins.

"Shhh!" Peter hissed, using his other hand to release Gabriel's and point into the now pressing shadows. "Listen."

There were shouts coming from the darkness. Someone was now clearly whimpering for help, and Gabriel felt his insides give a jolt..._someone needed a hero_. But before he had time to act, Peter broke out into a run. Gabriel hated it when Peter took off without him..._Peter was without healing ability, without knowing anything about the danger he was running into. It only took one bullet, Gabriel kept trying to explain to him, one bullet and Peter was dead. That never stopped Peter though, impulsive to a fault._

Gabriel gave a low growl under his breath, his feet beginning to pound the pavement beneath him as he too followed in the direction of the pleas.

The shadows were pressing in everywhere and Gabriel was entering blindly..._only Mother Moon was granting him a small glow of light in guidance now. _ A loud grunt came from the darkness..._he prayed that was Peter delivering a blow rather than receiving one_.

Gabriel rounded the corner, his eyes already beginning to adjust to the darkness. He started to take in the sights around him; his heart now pounding in his chest with a loud, intoxicating _thump, thump, thump_.

There was a homeless man lying in a heap on the ground, his lip was split and bloodied and his eye was swollen shut. A group of young people surrounded him, cowering down at the blue flood of lightening that was crackling overhead. Peter was wielding his ability to frighten, not hurt, and it was working to good effect.

Gabriel rounded in on the group, his own hand outstretching to disarm several of the young men, their weapons flying from their hands and clattering to the pavement. Gabriel gave a dark smirk, their heads jerking towards him in fear. Peter and he made a wonderful team, their powers always complimenting each other..._after three years of painful opposition both men now saved the world side by side. They were heroes, both of them, and this time it was all real._

_Sylar had been sitting in his cell once more. He was back from his latest assignment and there was a pit sitting in his stomach, a small simmering of anger threatening to burn within his chest. Noah had tricked him while they were out together on assignment. They had been trying to pick up a dangerous man that could create black hole vortexes, but Noah had asked the man to kill Sylar, disregarding the fact that they were supposed to be partners now, a team. No, he still sought only revenge on Sylar, seeing Sylar only through the lens of their past relationship. Claire had been there too, and she had looked upon Sylar with such disdain, such disgust. Those warm green eyes were dark and cruel towards him; she only saw him as a monster too._

_But he wasn't a monster. Couldn't Noah and Claire see that? He wasn't a monster; Angela had told him she had seen the future. She had seen the future and he was to be a great hero. He wished Noah and Claire would see that...especially Claire, for she was special like him, and she was his niece...__his family__...and she and he had become intricately linked through destiny whether she ever cared to admit it or not._

_He was lost in his thoughts, when suddenly a woman with bright blond hair had sped into Level 5. She was special, moving far too fast for the human eye to see. Sylar wondered briefly what it would be like to be able to run like that...to be able to escape from anything or catch anyone. The thought was tantalizing...it almost made his mouth water._

_The woman beseeched him to join a different company named Pinehearst. She explained that Sylar was to embrace his darkness and go on to do great things, not squander his talents on meaningless missions. But Sylar would never betray his mother nor betray his little brother...they were his newfound family and he was steadfastly loyal to them. And Angela loved him for who he was, and nothing was more important than that._

_The woman's words and actions had upset him, however, for she had also unleashed other criminals in the Level 5 compound. Sylar had rushed to see his mother, to tell her of what had happened and seek her comfort and guidance. But when he found Angela, a cold horror twisted at his insides. She was trapped in some terrible dreamlike state, unable to awaken. He had shaken her, cried out at her, begged her but she was lost to him. A small panic began to grip him...he needed to save her. God, he had just found a mother again and he needed to save her. He needed help...but Noah would not help him. And Claire feared him, hated him. He needed Peter, his brother, his other side of the coin._

_They were the two most powerful. And only together could they save their mother._

_Sylar quickly found the cell that Peter was being held in. Peter had restraints across his chest and arms as well as his legs. There was a sedation tube inserted in his nose, and Sylar hurriedly worked to remove it. He watched his younger brother intently, seeing how Peter was still drowsy and unresponsive._

"_Peter," He murmured, rubbing at Peter's lean, muscular chest. Peter glanced up at him, but the young man's eyes were still heavily lidded. "Peter, you need to come with me." Sylar insisted, removing Peter's leg restraints._

_Mom was hurt and Sylar was afraid. He couldn't lose another mother...he doubted he could survive the pain a second time around. He needed Peter and he hoped to God that Peter would put aside any anger he held for Sylar to see that their mother was more important than any remaining grudges._

_Sylar rubbed at Peter's chest again, before going to remove the young man's chest and arm restraints. Peter was clearly still under the influence of the drugs, but his form gave a small stretch to indicate that he was waking up._

_Peter's eyes were still bleary as he spoke in hushed tones, "What are you doing?"_

"_I need you." Sylar pleaded, determinedly. He watched in dismay as the realization of the situation seemed to dawn upon Peter, his face going from tired and dreamy to panicked and horrified. Peter leapt off of the table in shock, prepared to defend himself if necessary._

"_Get away from me!" He warned, circling around the table desperately._

"_No, no, no, no, no!" __Sylar cried out in a raspy voice, hoping to both calm and convince the frightened young man. He hated seeing Peter fear him now...they were brothers, after all...and he lifted a hand in comfort as Peter hugged the wall behind him._

"_I'm not going to hurt you." Sylar insisted, trying to make his voice sound as soothing as possible. He wanted Peter to understand, Sylar was finished hurting him. He was beginning to see that he had never truly __wished__ to harm Peter; he had always cared for Peter whether it had shown or not, as if somehow Sylar had intuitively sensed that both young men were family._

"_You already did!" Peter snapped, and Sylar saw all of the angry accusation that flashed in his darkened eyes. "You gave me this hunger, made me a monster." His eyes shifted towards the floor, his face brimming with anxiety. "Now I can't control it, I'm just like you!"_

_Peter lifted his sharp gaze back towards Sylar's and a scared realization was shining there. His lips parted and a small gasp trembled from them...Peter was both precious and sad in his ways. He knew now that these gifts could betray you as easily as they could save you. Peter had absorbed one wrong power, he realized now he truly had only been one misguided intention away from being a monster too. He had taken on a hunger he couldn't control; and once absorbed he could never purge himself of it. He was condemned for the rest of his days, the full terror of his actions only now reaching him._

_But Sylar no longer wished for a world in which a condemned Peter resided. Peter was good...his precious, sweet little brother...and Sylar was meant to guide him back to his feet after he had stumbled, fallen and hurt himself as if mending a scraped knee._

"_I don't want to be that anymore, I'm trying to be different." Sylar insisted, and he tried to tell himself he was only trying to convince Peter and not himself. He felt his lungs ache in his chest as he worked to suck in more air, the room now seeming to be devoid of it. "I think I can control it..." His dark, chocolate eyes darted away, the words growing thick in his mouth. __God, he needed to control it. Even now, the hunger cried out to him wishing to be fed. There was something dark and needy throbbing inside of him, even now alone with no one but Peter near him.__ He lifted his gaze once more to meet Peter's. "And if I can than so can you."_

_Peter seemed to drink in his words; the dark lighting of the cell making his eyes look deeper than usual. "When I saw you in the future...you change. You found a way to suppress it..." Peter admitted, his voice veering towards the demanding. "How?"_

_Sylar didn't know how yet. Everything always seemed so out of control his entire life. His mother's house, his need to be a watchmaker like his father, his destiny and powers thrown upon him without so much as an explanation of how any of it should work, his mother now hurt and unresponsive, his little brother staring at him with the same dread Claire had earlier._

"_I don't know...but just knowing that I figure it out, just believing that it's a possibility gives me hope." And it wasn't just words; he could truly feel the light burning of hope now penetrating his heart. __He could learn how to silence the devil; and then he could save Peter too. And Peter would love him then; realize his brother was only trying to be good to him now._

"_I don't want hope, I want it gone!" Peter hissed, blinking back tears. Sylar watched him closely; he felt a pang in his chest as he realized he understood exactly how Peter felt...__that felt good...it was connecting. __ Poor Peter, he was realizing that the hunger was with him forever now, and it caused him to do bad things, and it caused him to hurt those he loved...and he only ever wanted to be a hero with these abilities but instead he felt completely devoid of grace, and all these realizations at once were so horrible that he looked as if he wished to cry. __And Sylar understood._

_Nonetheless, Peter needed some strong guidance. Sylar was older; it was his place to take his brother's hand...__as if they were young children__...and tell him to dry his tears._

"_This is not about you and me." Sylar whispered, his eyes moving softly to the floor. He lifted them once more, trying to will away the unshed tears from Peter's gaze. "I woke you because your mother is in trouble." Sylar felt his heart skip several beats; his dark eyes intensifying on Peter's sharp yet softening features. "Our mother."_

_Peter gave several heavy blinks of his glassy eyes. His face seemed to shine acceptance as he gave a heavy swallow; as if he were gulping his emotions down and hiding them for the moment. "What happened to her?" He demanded, roughly._

"_I don't know, but we have to go to her now." Sylar insisted, reaching out to grab onto Peter's arm. He frowned as he watched the young man jerk away quickly._

"_You're going to get help, Peter." Sylar promised, sincerely. "But we need to help her first. We're her sons, we need to protect her."_

_Peter sniffed, quickly swiping his arm across his face, as he gave a short nod. A dark determination was already beginning to settle on his face; his eyes now brimming with purpose. "Take me to her."_

_Sylar gave a quick nod as well. Maybe after Peter saw how much Sylar loved Angela too, then Peter could come to love Sylar._


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Hi, everyone! Sorry for the super long wait, life has been moving pretty quickly lately. But I finally got around to writing another chapter! : ) Please leave a comment, so I know if you are enjoying your awesome selves. I enjoy all forms of comments, constructive criticism included! Thanks!**

**Chapter 13**

The fighting became madcap; Peter was using his electricity to put harmless jolts into some of the gang members since this was effectively knocking them out.

Gabriel had taken to rounding them up with telekinesis, throwing some against walls, while taking others and hurtling them to the pavement, rendering them unconscious.

Gabriel heard a gunshot blast ring out in the air; he instinctively turned towards Peter to see what happened. Peter was still unhurt, but one of the thugs had recovered his gun and was aiming it once more at Peter's head with the intention not to miss this time.

"Peter, look out!" Gabriel shouted, thrusting his arm out to push the young man up against the alleyway wall and pin him there.

Gabriel gave him a dark stare..._he was still a young boy really, barely out of his teenage years. But he had almost shot Peter, and that had angered Gabriel to no end._

"I can't move!" The boy shouted, fear clearly painted in his eyes.

_Of course he couldn't, he was completely at Gabriel's mercy. Fortunately for him, Gabriel __wished__ to be merciful now._

Gabriel hit the youth's head up against the wall, and he slumped to the ground in a heap. This needn't be a messy fight, most of the thugs were already retreating...they had been beating the homeless man mostly for pocket change and fun, and these new opponents were far more than they had ever bargained for. _They were scared, and that was good. Maybe now they'd realize how their victim felt when they had been hurting him._

Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw another youth attack Peter, a bottle raised high over his head. Peter quickly dodged the other's wild swing; he placed a hand against the youth's chest to give him a small jolt of electricity, knocking him unconscious.

Gabriel turned back quickly, two of the youths charging at him...one held a knife, and the other a pistol. Gabriel gave an impatient sigh, with a flick of his hand they collided heads; slumping to the ground defeated.

Peter seemed to note the group's collective fear; he took advantage of that by directing a flood of electricity towards the nearest street lamp. It exploded in a range of lights and heated sparks which rained down upon all the men present.

The remaining, conscious youths appeared to have seen enough, the four left over ran off into the darkness, cursing angrily.

Gabriel gave a sharp breath of relief, glancing over in Peter's direction. The young man was not seriously harmed; aside from a small, bloodied abrasion cutting across his arm...his shirt sleeve had been ripped by a knife it seemed, the skin only receiving a minor surface wound.

_But he was okay. He was still alive, and that was all that mattered. Because if someone ever took Peter away from him, Gabriel didn't even want to imagine what he would do in response._

Peter brushed his hands together, his eyes quickly surveying the scene. He noted the lifeless figure of the homeless man and instantly rushed to his side. The man remained unmoving at Peter's touch. Peter gave a heavy sigh; quickly taking the man's wrist in his hands, feeling for a pulse. After a moment, Peter gritted his teeth, placing his ear down onto the man's chest.

"Yeah, he's not breathing." Peter growled, forcefully rolling his sleeves further up his arms. "C'mere, Gabriel, I'm gonna need to do CPR."

Gabriel felt his heart leap up into his throat..._he had never been in a situation like this before. Defeating bad guys was easy. Saving lives like this...it was scary_.

"What do you need me to do?" Gabriel gasped, glancing down at the dirt-streaked man. He had straggly, coarse white hair and an unkempt beard, and he was bleeding from several different wounds. There was a cut above his eye, his lip was soundly split and the blood that was seeping onto his chin was beginning to crust over. Why had those kids beaten him..._was it all just fun to them, fun to watch another human being suffer?_

"Just hold him still for me." Peter insisted, and Gabriel immediately placed his hands securely on the man's body. Peter placed one of his hand's tightly over the other on the man's chest and began rapidly pushing down in rhythmic succession.

Gabriel watched Peter closely..._he was such a hero. His face flushed with determination, sweat beading on his forehead, his arms working furiously to keep a steady pace. How did he always know exactly what to do?_

Peter tilted the man's head back to open his mouth; he then began to breathe into it deeply. A dark resolve was settling on Peter's face, his hands moving back to frantically push against the unresponsive man.

"Damn it, he's gone into cardiac arrest." Peter hissed, his breathing belabored even as he leaned down to administer more air to the dying man. "Keep him still!"

Gabriel redoubled his efforts, his gaze moving back down to bore into their patient. _He needed to live. He needed to live and Peter and Gabriel needed to save him. Gabriel couldn't watch someone die beneath his very fingertips...not anymore...this time, when he held them they would live, not die. They would be saved, not consumed by death._

The thrusts of Peter's hands intensified, and a loud, sickening crack sounded somewhere from the man's ribcage. Gabriel jerked back in horror..._had Gabriel not held onto the man tightly enough_?

"Peter...!" He cried out, shocked.

"It's alright, it needed to happen!" Peter shouted, bringing his mouth back down to the man's once more.

"Oh, god..." Gabriel whispered, looking down at the man in horror. Peter had broken the man's ribs and that was apparently alright..._Gabriel obviously didn't understand how this worked at all. The man wasn't moving, and Gabriel couldn't watch this...couldn't watch a man die before his very eyes._

"Damn it!" Peter cried out again, pressing violently against the man's chest; his eyes flashing furiously, with every push he let out a heated grunt.

Gabriel tightly shut his eyes; his hands gripping onto the man with a punishing grasp. He had been given one job, and that was to hold the patient still. _They needed to save him_.

_Please live_. Gabriel begged, concentrating all of his mind's power on giving the unmoving form some sort of positive mental energy.

As if answering his silent plea, a fit of coughs and gurgles broke the air. Gabriel tentatively opened his eyes as he released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding...the homeless man was breathing once more, a series of gasps and wheezes escaping him as he brought his hands up to his side in pain.

"Oh, thank God." Peter murmured, leaning back as weary relief flooded his face. His forehead was shining with beaded perspiration, and he lifted a hand to press to it. "Gabriel," He gave a small smile, his other hand reaching up to slap Gabriel's arm roughly. "Good job, man. Oh...oh, god, I thought he was gone."

Gabriel returned Peter's smile, resting his own large hand on the young man's shoulder. "What do we do now?"

Peter gave a quick shake of his head, as if trying to clear the pumping adrenaline from his body. "We need to get him to the hospital for his injuries."

Gabriel gave a quick, eager nod. _He needed ways in which to be helpful. _"I'll do it, Peter. I can fly him there. You wait here for me."

Peter glanced up at Gabriel, his lips pursed together in resolution. "Okay. St. Joe's is down the street, take him straight to the ER, alright?"

Gabriel gave a determined nod, picking up the gasping man as if he were weightless and hoisting him over his shoulder. With one final glance to be sure Peter was alright, Gabriel flew up into the sky, soaring towards the hospital lights.

Gabriel's head was reeling; that sensation mixed with the wind that was now whipping past his face made him feel slightly dizzy. _He had helped save a man's life, and now he was rushing him to the hospital. He was a hero; this is what good people did. It felt wonderful, it felt exhilarating...it felt so...special, so right._

The man was moaning, but he had already survived the worst of the storm. Gabriel could already see St. Joe's shining lights beneath the intense glow of the moon mother.

"You'll be safe soon." Gabriel promised, beginning his descent down towards the hospital's ER. _How much more fulfilling was it to be an Angel of Life rather than the Angel of Death? Is this how Peter felt every day, the works of his hands giving his brethren life, stealing them back away from the Grim Reaper's grasp? Gabriel liked it...it was invigorating._

Gabriel lightly touched down on his feet, hurrying over towards the ER doors, the man now beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

A nurse with light brown skin and large, brown eyes spotted Gabriel as he approached the doors. She immediately turned and shouted for help; two men came running out to help take the man away from Gabriel and into their own arms.

"What happened?" One of the medics demanded.

"He's been beaten...and his ribs are broken." Gabriel explained breathlessly, watching as the man was carried away from him..._the Angel of Life had delivered the lost soul back into the realm of the living._

As the medics gathered around the homeless man, Gabriel winked off into the night before he could be missed; his heart was throbbing in his chest like a drum.

He and Peter had been heroes together.

_Angela was confined to the bed, her beautiful dark features serene and nearly lifeless; aside from the small breaths of air she would inhale and exhale slowly._

_Sylar approached her, his heart filling with anguish at the sight. "I found her like this; she's in some kind of a coma." Sylar knew his voice was softly breaking in front of Peter, but he didn't care. They were both her sons...Sylar had every right to love her just as much as Peter did and just as closely and deeply._

_This was the woman who __loved__ him...she knew he was a monster, she knew what a bad man he had been, but she still loved him and she refused to give up on him._

_Sylar placed his large hand over her smaller one...it was so tiny; it fit so comfortingly in his own. He loved her too. And if she wouldn't give up on him, then he refused to give up on her._

_Peter was watching; his lips pressed softly together. "You're worried. You actually care about her." The words were said softly, but there was a simmer of anger still present. Peter was hurt by his mother, the woman he had been closest to in the world. She had hurt him and as good a boy as Peter was, he could only be hurt so many times before he began to lend his forgiveness more tentatively._

"_She's my mother too, Peter." Sylar insisted, as he continued to observe Angela's resting face._ _Peter needed to accept them...__all of them__...as a family. "She's the only person who ever accepted me for what I am."_

_After all, not even his other mother, Virginia, had done that. She thought he was a monster when she realized all that he truly was. That had been very damning, her condemnation and then her death by his hands scarring his soul irreparably. But there was a hope now that those past memories didn't have to be his reality any longer. Angela could be his reality now, erasing his past regrets with her unconditional love. He wasn't so far gone that not even his mother could love him any longer...it gave him the strength he needed to feel as if even redemption was not an impossibility._

"_I should have protected her." Sylar murmured, and he noted out of the corner of his eyes that Peter's jaw had tightened. No doubt Peter thought he should have been the one to protect her. Or maybe he realized he had hurt her too, not so long ago. That Sylar had treated his mother better than he had._

_But that wasn't important at the moment. Sylar turned back to face the young man, his words coming out in earnest haste. "You got to look inside of her head." Peter watched him, his eyes filled with so many unreadable emotions._

"_You've got to find out what's wrong." Sylar continued, insistently. He needed to be Peter's big brother right now; he needed to guide the young man into the direction that would help them both save the day._

_Peter heeded Sylar's words as he moved towards Angela. Without even a word, his eyes bored into her, and Sylar knew he was entering her mind with his own._

_It took only a moment for Peter to stumble backwards, a gasp leaving his full, shaky lips as he placed a hand to his head in pain._

"_What was it, what did you see?" Sylar pressed, out of both concern and eagerness. Angela would be so proud of him right now, taking charge of the situation, helping guide and support Peter, doing all the right things she had always wished him to do._

_Peter lowered his arm to meet Sylar's eyes once more. Those eyes were so beautiful; they were almost a golden olive beneath the artificial lighting...Sylar had never noticed that before. __Expressive eyes.__ Peter moved to pick up a medical chart and began to draw on it._

"_Just this." He explained, grimly, showing it to Sylar. In the side margins, he had drawn a DNA helix._

_Sylar took in the symbol, his ability already moving to put all the pieces together. _

"_I've seen this before." Peter added._

_Sylar glanced back down on the symbol; the puzzle already forming a picture. "So have I." He admitted, reaching down into his pocket and pulling out one of the business cards that had been given to him by the speedy girl that propositioned him earlier._

_It belonged to the company Pinehearst. Peter grabbed the card out of Gabriel's hand, his own eyes darkly boring into it._

"_This is the symbol for my father's law firm." Peter explained, his eyes moving back up to Gabriel's. His jaw was working furiously; it seemed as if his heated emotions were resurfacing. "But I don't understand, he's dead."_

"_He's dead?" Sylar repeated, a bit stunned. He felt slightly taken aback and saddened as the full understanding of Peter's words sunk in. Their father was dead...Sylar had hoped to meet the man; he had never known a father's love. "But then why is this the symbol for Pinehearst?"_

"_I dunno, but I want to find out." Peter admitted, his face darkening. "C'mon we gotta change outta these clothes and get back into somethin' normal."_

_Sylar nodded. "There're clothes in the closest, I saw them earlier."_

_Peter hurried over to the closet, already pulling his shirt up over his back; his accentuated muscles and the leanness of his form fully on display._

_Sylar blinked away quickly, gripping onto the hem of his own tank top as he pulled it up across his wiry chest and over his head. "Do you have a plan, Peter?"_

"_Yeah, I got a plan." Peter snapped, pulling his pants down and leaving himself clad only in black boxers. "We need to go to Pinehearst and get some answers."_

"_I don't know if that's such a good idea." Sylar replied, discarding his own pants. "We don't know what we're up against yet. This woman who tried to recruit me took a lot of other people with abilities from Level 5 to go and work for them. Dangerous people."_

"_Yeah, and?" There was an impulsive anger brimming across Peter's sharp features now as he pulled his regular pants up around his slim hips. He buttoned them roughly, his eyes shooting back up to burn into Gabriel. "Between the two of us, we should be able to kick their asses, right?"_

_Gabriel gave a quick shake of his head. "That's not you talking. You're not feeling well, Peter, and you need to..."_

"_Don't tell me what I need to do!" Peter snapped, pulling his shirt up over his head. He reached out one arm to point an accusing finger towards Sylar. "I'm feelin' fine, considering the fact that I just found out I'm related to a psychopath..."_

"_Mom loves me!" Sylar shot back, his words trembling out, as he also finished dressing. "Why can't you see what she sees?"_

"_Yeah?" Peter countered, as he began rounding on Sylar like a hungry wolf. "If she loves you so much, why'd she give you up? Huh?"_

_Sylar hesitated, taking in a shaky breath. __His mother loved him. __ "I don't know why she did what she did then, but she said she'd explain it to me when I'm ready. But I do know that her dream says that I'm to be a hero. Now that's good enough for me, why isn't it good enough for you?"_

"_Because Ma lies!" Peter's fists were trembling at his sides, his anger only burning hotter. "Now I'm gonna go get some answers for myself, so are you comin' or not?"_

"_Look at yourself, Peter!" Sylar hissed, and he began to circle Peter just as intently. __It was like Kirby Plaza again, only in some strange, reverse of the situation in which Sylar tried to cool Peter's temper rather than set it aflame. __"This isn't you."_

_Peter's lip curled up into a snarl; his dark hazel eyes shooting venom at Sylar. "YOU DON'T KNOW ME!" He raged, bringing himself up so that his face was nearly inches from Sylar's. His whole body shook as his face flushed red. "You don't know me and you don't know her, so just shut the hell up about everything."_

"_I do know you." Sylar whispered, trying to keep his voice as soothing as possible. He took a determined step towards Peter. "You're just scared right now and I understand."_

"_You understand?" Peter demanded, shoving his finger back into Sylar's face. "You don't understand anything!"_

_With that, Peter turned on his heels and strode out of the room, his walk both furious and purposeful._

_Sylar hurried after him, concern for Peter growing within him. "Peter, don't, you're in no condition to go to Pinehearst!"_

_The hunger was strengthening in Peter, his powerful emotions seeming to drive it to the point that it was now unbearable to keep sated. Peter was too confused to go anywhere, his hot temper guiding his every action._

"_They spread abilities, causing the end of the world, they did this to her." Peter replied, his true care and concern for their mother now seeping into his every word._

"_I want revenge for what they did to Mom too, but..." Sylar rounded on Peter earnestly to face him, but Peter was already turning on him in fury._

"_STOP CALLING HER THAT!" Peter shouted, his temper flaring up once more. He quieted his voice, as if also sensing his dark rage was starting to get the best of him. He looked up at Sylar with big, bright eyes. "You are not my family."_

_Sylar ignored his words for the moment. Peter was about to take a terrible path, a path that Sylar had already succumbed too. Peter was his little brother and Sylar needed to protect him; to somehow help him keep the heated cravings of the hunger from scarring his soul too._

"_What you took from me, my ability. I've lived with it." His words were forceful; he was desperate to convince Peter to listen. "The need for power will consume you, it will control you."_

_Peter needed to stay sweet and innocent. If he could have the power and still be a hero, then maybe Sylar could capture that someday too._

_But Sylar's words only seemed to intensify Peter's anger. Peter seemed to be grappling with who he even was at the moment, his very being spiraling out of his control. __Sylar understood, he could feel everything that Peter was feeling._

"_Get out of my way." Peter whispered, his voice dangerously low and husky. There was a warning in those eyes...expressive, dangerous, explosive eyes._

_But Peter didn't scare Sylar. Sylar had seen that same look in the mirror too many times before and he was determined to rid it from poor Peter's. "No!" Sylar insisted, moving his body to block any further movement by Peter. "I'm your brother; you got to listen to me. Peter, you need help!"_

_Because Sylar loved him. He loved Peter and it didn't matter that he had only discovered their bond of brotherhood so very recently; it felt as if he had known for ages...he had loved Peter for ages now. He loved Peter, he had always loved Peter, and Peter needed to see that...there was no more hatred, no more hurting...just two brothers that needed to be good to one another even as some power from the damned swore to corrupt them._

_But Peter's eyes still shone hatred, although whether it was focused at Sylar or more ferociously inward, Sylar couldn't tell. "I don't need anything from you" He cried out, and he flew towards Sylar and tightly wrapped his arms around him; propelling them both forward in a mad rush._

_Sylar felt his back collide painfully with the closed doors; they burst open from the force of his and Peter's bodies. __Peter was hurting him, but Sylar didn't stop it. _

_Peter slammed Sylar up against the wall, watching the latter fall to the floor as the former straightened himself up._

_Sylar felt his own temper rise...__he couldn't let Peter fall, he had to catch him even if Peter was being annoyingly stubborn__...and used telekinesis to push the young man away from him. He watched Peter fly through the air before skidding across the floor. But Peter was scrappy and determined, as Sylar had already seen so many times before, and Peter was already jumping back to his feet in bristling defiance._

"_I'm not going to let you go down that path, Peter, it's too dangerous!"Sylar pleaded, his hand outstretched as if to beg his little brother to stay innocent. He no longer wished for Peter to be a monster. He __needed__ Peter innocent, needed Peter innocent if Sylar had even a shred of hope to find innocence one day too. Sylar didn't want Peter to be a monster just like him, he wanted to be an angel just like Peter._

_And it hurt to see Peter like this...as much as Peter insisted that Sylar didn't know him, it just wasn't true. Sylar had known Peter a year ago; he was the wide-eyed, fresh-faced boy who had bravely confronted Sylar during that fateful Texas homecoming. Sylar never forgot that face; even as it grew angrier and darker over a year's worth of pain and sacrifice...even now, as that face burned with a rage so searing it nearly set Sylar on fire._

_Peter shot a torrent of blue electricity out of his hand and pressed Sylar flat against the wall; hot bolts licking against his skin and surging into his form._

_Peter ran forward, grabbing Sylar by the shirt collar. Peter's eyes were like a raging sea during a tempest...so many colors, so many emotions, so much churning and swirling like waves of green crashing upon shores of hazelnut and gold._

_Sylar knew that whatever pain Peter brought him now was well-deserved. He welcomed the hurt Peter dealt him, because only in the presence of love can one feel a pain so achingly intense. And Sylar wished to love so very desperately, so he readily accepted the pain._

"You're such a badass, Peter." Gabriel smiled, as the two men continued their purposeful trek down the solemn night streets. "God, the way you just knew exactly what to do when that guy wasn't breathing..."

Peter gave a small, self-depreciating laugh. "Gabriel, that was just knowing CPR. I was a lifeguard in high school; I didn't even have to go to college to learn that one." He noted Gabriel's small frown, and teasingly bumped his own shoulder up against the taller man's. "But, no, you're right, I'm still a badass."

Gabriel gave an appreciative laugh, before his thoughts turned serious once more. "But it was okay you broke that guys ribs, right?"

"Well, I didn't want to, but sometimes you have to do the compressions really hard in order to restart the heart." Peter explained, nodding. "They used to tell us in Nursing School that if you don't break some ribs, you aren't doin' it right."

"They'd say that in Nursing School?" Gabriel demanded, a bit taken aback. It seemed a rather violent thing to say, seeing as nurses always seemed so...gentle and nice..._and female, so Gabriel supposed his preconceptions weren't all accurate._

"I think they'd say that just to scare us." Peter admitted, giving Gabriel a small, lopsided grin. "I remember the first time I had to do CPR, I was interning at an inner city hospital as an undergraduate. She was a young mom; I saw her husband and two little kids before we rushed her into the ER. Just a real sweet family. Well, we were always understaffed, so while the doctor was being paged, I had to start CPR by myself. God, Gabriel, it was one the scariest moments of my life. And when I first felt her ribs crack, man, I freaked out. But somethin' in me just knew I had to keep going. Her family...I mean, they were countin' on me to save her. I could see it in their faces; they'd be lost without her. I didn't stop, and when the doctor finally came, we were able to restart her heart. The doctor later told me that if I hadn't started that CPR, we would've lost her for sure. It was the first life I ever saved, Gabriel, and man, it was like...I don't know, it was sucha crazy feeling."

Gabriel gave Peter a small, knowing smile. "It was your first taste of a lifelong addiction."

Peter gave a small shrug, his lips quirking to the side. "I mean, I guess you could describe it like that. But that's kinda depressing somehow."

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment a couple of gunshots rang out in the air. Gabriel and Peter exchanged understanding looks, both men's eyes darkening with a rush of adrenaline.

"It was in this direction." Peter pointed, turning to rush off and be a hero once more.

Gabriel grabbed Peter by the shoulder and jerked him back around, gazing into his face intently. "Don't do anything to get yourself killed. You need to remember, Peter..."

"Look, I know." Peter insisted, moving his shoulder out of Gabriel's rough grasp. "As long as you got my back, I'm not scared, okay?"

Gabriel pursed his lips, his deep brown eyes darkening. "Be careful."

Peter gave a quick nod. "C'mon, man."

_Things weren't so different than before. Gabriel pressing for Peter's safety, Peter resolutely ignoring him._

Both men hurried down the street, hearts resounding in their chests, feet slapping the pavement; their breathing deep and laborious.

They rounded the corner together, the scene of the crime still in progress. There was a masked man standing in front of a parked car. He was waving a gun wildly in the air as he screamed obscenities. There was a woman in the car; with the driver's side door still hanging open, and she was cowering and crying, her head pressed against the steering wheel.

"Carjacking." Peter muttered, darkly. "Let's go."

Gabriel and Peter rushed in together. Gabriel knew it was his job to disarm the gunman..._he always had a heavy lump in his throat whenever there was someone waving a gun around. Peter didn't seem to fear them, but that made it all the worse._

At the mere flick of a hand, the man's gun went flying out of his grasp. The man let out a surprised shout; his eyes turning towards his saboteurs.

Peter had already run up upon the man; grabbing him by the shirt collar and slamming him across the face with a clenched fist.

_Sometimes it seemed that Peter forgot he had power at all, his impulsive emotions overtaking him. Gabriel liked that, it showed that Peter didn't allow the powers to control him, sometimes he didn't even need them at all while saving people. But other times it bothered him...Peter needed to remember how dangerous being someone's savior could be._

Gabriel hurried over to the woman in the car, allowing Peter to handle the apprehension of the unconscious criminal.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel asked, breathlessly, his words spilling earnestly from his lips. He reached out a hand to gently place on her trembling shoulder.

The woman gave a start, a cry trembling past her pink lips. She jerked her shoulder away, lifting her head up to meet Gabriel's eyes.

She was very pretty; she had dark raven hair that laid in many braids down her shoulders. Her skin was like ebony, but it was her eyes that had taken Gabriel aback. They were unnaturally blue, more like a painting of the sea than it in actuality; and they were filled with tears that threatened to spill out of their canvas and down her pretty face.

"Who are you?" She murmured, bringing her arms up to hug herself tightly.

"I'm here to save you." Gabriel smiled, satisfaction rushing through his system. _He was the brave knight now that rescued the innocent damsels in distress. In the past, this woman would cower before him, he would be her nightmare. Now he stood like a ray of shining light in her hour of darkness._

She gave a small, uncertain nod, extending a hand out towards him. Gabriel grasped her slim hand into his much larger one, encompassing it entirely and giving it a small squeeze of comfort. She stood on unsteady feet, and Gabriel allowed her to balance herself by pressing up against his long chest.

She glanced up at him, her bright eyes wide with curiosity. "Thank you." She murmured, still clinging onto his tank top as if he were her only anchor during a tumultuous storm.

"Are you hurt?" Gabriel pressed, trying to appraise her for any injuries as he had sometimes seen Peter do. _He wasn't a medical expert, but she seemed alright, besides being very shaken up._

She gave a small shake of her head. "No."

Peter hurried over to Gabriel's side, rushing one hand through his mess of thick hair to push it out of his face. "Hey, is everything okay?"

The woman gave another small nod. She still clung to Gabriel, but her body was beginning to relax slightly. "Mmm hmm. I'm not hurt."

Gabriel turned to face Peter, surprised when he saw the young man's eyes widen slightly upon seeing the woman. Peter pursed his lips closed at once, a slight sadness entering his gaze.

_Simone_. The name entered Gabriel's thoughts without permission. That wasn't who this was, but she reminded Peter of someone who had that name. _It was the eyes. Simone had been very dark featured in every way, except for those stunning, unearthly blue eyes._

Gabriel didn't know who Simone was at all..._Nathan's memories weren't much help, he saw a woman but not a story..._but the name entering his mind at all left a bad taste in his mouth as he wrapped his arms firmly around the woman he had saved. _He liked this feeling, her small hands gripping onto him as if he were her salvation; her only protector in a frightening world. He liked that. But he didn't like remembering women from Peter's past, or Peter remembering them either. Peter had always said he wished to forget the past anyway._

_Gabriel gave a small shake of his head. He needed to focus; he still had to finish being this woman's hero._

"Here, let's get you back to your car." Gabriel offered, helping her to walk back to her vehicle. He was helping her step in, when without warning, another gunshot pierced the tranquility of the night.

Gabriel jerked back; enveloping the woman protectively in his arms as she buried her face into his chest, a short scream escaping her as her whole body shook. Gabriel turned his head to look over his shoulder; he instantly felt a cold dread seep into him. It cascaded in waves down from his head and began to culminate in his heaving chest..._time seemed to slow down to a crawl._

Peter was hurt..._Peter had been shot._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Oh, god." Gabriel murmured, and he felt frozen where he stood. It seemed as if all coherent thought had left him..._he was unable to piece anything together as to what he should do next..._and all he could do was hold on tighter to the woman he held; determined to keep her safe as uncertain danger still lurked.

Gabriel continued to watch Peter..._ it was shaking him to his very core; he was unable to look away but at the same time it scared him to understand the extent of the injury._

_Peter had been shot in the shoulder; it was bleeding profusely. The power of the blast seemed to have knocked him to the ground, he was lying unconscious as the crimson pool continued to grow around his unmoving body._

"PETER!" Gabriel shouted, one arm still wrapped around the woman who had begun to cry again. _It was so surreal. He wanted to give Peter the ability to heal, but Peter needed to be conscious in order to absorb it._

Another gunshot rang out in his sensitive ears; his whole body jerking backwards as he felt a burning, sharp pain tear through his chest.

"Oh my god!" The woman screamed, her own head pulling away quickly. She clasped a hand to her mouth in horror. "Oh my god!"

Gabriel looked down at his chest, bringing one hand up to tenderly touch the gaping bullet hole. It was already healing; the pain was vanishing as his body worked to push the bullet back out..._it clattered to the pavement._ He touched the hole once more; blood was matting in the coarse hair of his chest, but the skin was smooth and closed again.

_He could heal. He could heal but Peter could not, and that thought angered him when he often wished it could be the other way around._

The woman looked up at him in astonished bewilderment. "What the...?"

But Gabriel ignored her; a dark rage building up within him. _Peter was bleeding; he never wanted to see Peter bleed again. _His eyes scanned the night until he found the gunman, obviously the original carjacker's backup man. The man was obviously scared, the sight of Gabriel healing making him shake, the gun trembling in his grasp.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes; one arm slipping down around the woman's waist as he slowly raised his other. _He wasn't sure what he was going to do just yet, so many unfiltered thoughts were rushing into his mind's eye, each one more violent than the last. There was a cold dread icing his veins as his blood pounded in his ears. Peter was hurt...Peter was bleeding...Peter couldn't heal. But Peter __had__ to heal, because if he didn't, Gabriel would be lost, he would be completely broken, and he hadn't a clue what he would do to the man who had shot Peter; every thought becoming more violent than the last..._

The man was sent flying through the air until he slammed up against the wall of a building; Gabriel used telekinesis to make sure that he had hit it particularly roughly. _Gabriel should've been on the lookout for more men. It was Gabriel's fault Peter got hurt. Peter could've tended to the woman, but Gabriel had succumbed to his need to be thanked, to look like a hero, to receive praise for his good deeds. It was wrong and now Peter was hurt._

Gabriel released his grasp around the woman, stalking towards the man like a wolf rounds on its injured prey. His arm remained outstretched, his eyes narrowing as his breathing quickened. "Do you know what you just did?" He hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

The man let out a frightened yelp, his eyes wide with mounting terror. He kicked his feet against the wall, uselessly.

_Gabriel hadn't felt this angry in a long time and he knew he was allowing far too many dangerous emotions to flow through him unchecked. But none of it hardly computed, all he knew was that Peter was lying unconscious, bleeding, and it was this man's fault...Gabriel's fault...and he had to make it right..._

The day was all flashing so confusingly in Gabriel's mind. _Peter had left...and Gabriel and he had argued...there were still bad feelings between them because of it...and Peter was hurt...and Peter never listened to him...he just ran into danger without so much as a fleeting thought of what would happen to Gabriel if he ever lost Peter._

An impassioned cry tore from his throat, his arm cutting through the air with terrible precision. The woman gave a horrified shout from behind him, her sobs only intensifying.

Gabriel's gaze bored into the man before him..._a deep, long gash now ran across his cheek down to his jaw. Now he was bleeding too._

_Something inside of him was insisting that he leave this thug alone; he needed to help Peter. But something dark and angry was also whispering...whispering for him to maim this man for what he had done tonight, for what he had almost taken away from Gabriel._

"Oh...oh my god..." It was the woman again, and her whimpers seemed to draw Gabriel out of his stupor. He blinked his eyes heavily; turning his head around towards her to be sure that she was alright, even as he still left one arm outstretched towards his captive.

_Her eyes. Bright, piercing blue eyes. Only moments ago they had looked upon Gabriel with reverence...he was her savior, her hero, and she had clung to him. Now they were full of a far different emotion...different but sadly more familiar...fear...Gabriel was scaring her with how quickly he had turned from caring rescuer to raging avenger._

His eyes shifted back over towards Peter..._he was still bleeding, and he could bleed out if something wasn't done to wake him. _Why hadn't Gabriel thought of _that_...god, everything seemed so disorganized and messy as he strove to know what to do...it seemed he never knew what the right thing was without Peter there to hold his hand.

Gabriel gave a quick shake of his head..._the man before him deserved so much worse..._but Gabriel was content to leave him merely scarred for his actions tonight; with another flick of Gabriel's hand the gunman hit his head against the wall and fell to the ground in a heap.

_His only concern was Peter now._

Gabriel rushed to the young man's body; strong arms quickly encircling around Peter and drawing him up into a protective, demanding grasp..._Peter's blood was now seeping into Gabriel's tank top and jeans; staining him with the same death red._

Gabriel cast once last glance in the direction of the woman. "I need to help him. Can you get back home?"

The woman nodded, her arms folded tightly over her chest, her eyes still spilling over with frightened tears.

Gabriel lifted Peter up into his arms, the young man's head and legs molding into the crooks of them, as he cradled Peter tightly against his form. Peter's head flopped up against Gabriel's wiry chest; the former's eyes were still shut as his lips soundlessly parted.

He needed to get Peter home. He needed Peter to wake up, to take another ability from Gabriel. Peter _needed_ to heal, to live. Because Gabriel didn't know who he was yet without Peter...and he knew he never wanted to find out.

_Peter's fist collided painfully with Sylar's jaw...the room spun as his eyes swam with water from the riveting contact. Sylar felt himself sink down the wall, his brain still on fire from the hit, as he felt Peter grab him by the shirt collar once more._

"_You're too weak to stop me!" Peter seethed, and Sylar could hear all too clearly the same dark mocking that he had once used on Peter. Sylar was expecting the next punch; but it still caught him full force across the face, knocking him senseless for several moments._

"_I know what it feels like now." And this time Peter punished him with a rough jab. Sylar could only look up at Peter with a dazed look in his pained brown eyes. Peter could be just as cruel and spiteful as Sylar had ever been...__the hunger didn't create feelings, it could just exacerbate them. And Peter truly wished to see Sylar suffer._

_But that was alright, because Sylar almost wished Peter this respite, this opportunity to hurt him so that someday Peter might eventually be able to love him._

"_All this power!" Peter continued, and he was hardly recognizable now to Sylar...or even himself, Sylar was certain. Another punch befell him; and this time Peter had broken his jaw...the pain was shattering, numbing...but as soon as it happened, the bones were already diligently mending back into place. Perhaps that was even worse than leaving them broken...hearing and feeling them break only to know it could happen a hundred times more._

_And Sylar could've thrown Peter off of him; he could have hurt Peter equally as much. But Sylar wanted Peter's love...__he needed Peter to love him__...and the only way that could happen was if Peter hurt him, struck him, took out all his anger and channeled it towards Sylar like a tornado boring down and ripping up everything in its destructive path._

_Peter grabbed Sylar once more by the collar, his face roughly moving forward so that he was so close to Sylar that their noses were lightly touching. Hot breath burned into Sylar's skin. __Peter was close enough to touch, close enough to__..._

"_I'm the most __special__!" Peter taunted, and a perverse delight shone on his face for throwing those words back at Sylar; for shoving the words down Sylar's throat until he choked on them._

_Sylar raised his eyes once more to see Peter's seething features. He was so angry...__and he still held so much contempt for Sylar__...but to hurt someone only meant you actually cared enough __to__ hurt them...and if that was the only way Sylar could be with Peter, then so be it. If being beaten for being a monster was all he could ever share with the young man then it was better than having nothing to share at all. With that thought in mind, Sylar welcomed the final blow...he even welcomed the darkness that followed...__Peter could hurt him all he needed to. Yes, it was painful, but that pain was superficial compared to the internal wounds that ran much deeper...to the cutting glares that Peter would give him, telling Sylar that in Peter's eyes Sylar would forever be the monster that Peter feared becoming...ever since that fateful night in Kirby Plaza._

"Peter, you've got to wake up!" Gabriel begged, his hands drenched in warm, sticky blood as he continued to apply pressure to Peter's wound..._he had learned to do that from hearing some of Peter's stories. _"Ah, wake up!"

Peter was lying, unmoving, on the bed back in his apartment. Gabriel had flown them both home..._although he hardly remembered any of the trip._

Gabriel lifted a hand and smacked Peter across the face; it only left dark crimson bloodstains pressed to the young man's cheek. Gabriel hit him again, but it was to no avail, he had hit him over ten times already and Peter didn't even stir..._the young man's head would just flop lifelessly over to the other side...those beautiful lips still parted...those eyelashes still kissing his cheeks as he refused to awaken._

"PETER!" He cried, bringing both hands back down onto the gaping wound. It felt hot and angry to the touch, and Gabriel abhorred the fact that he was drenched up to his wrists in Peter's blood. _Maybe he had to take Peter to the hospital, but he was certain Peter had already lost too much blood to be helped. No, once Peter got to the hospital Gabriel wouldn't be allowed to see him and he needed to be by his side the moment he awoke, he needed to be present in order to surge the life giving ability back into Peter's veins._

Gabriel closed his eyes and gritted his teeth..._he needed to think_...but everything was hurting..._his head hurt, his heart ached..._and he was at a loss of what to do. If he lost Peter..._God __what__ would he do without Peter?_

Gabriel hated this...blood had been the staple of his dark life, he had learned more than to ignore its mark on his hands; he had learned to embrace it. Many times after a kill he would be drenched in it, and sometimes he'd sleep like that, not even bothering to clean himself up until later and the realization sunk in that he was still dripping with his last victim's blood. But now he hated blood..._hated how it looked, how it smelled_...and now it was everywhere..._god, it was everywhere...sinking into their bed sheets, smeared across the floor, staining the covers._

"Please don't leave me." Gabriel moaned, his head falling down and burying into Peter's warm chest. Peter's heartbeat was so faint..._it had been so fast, so loud the night they had been intimate on the tabletop together. _He could feel tears seeping out from between his tightly clenched eyelids. "Don't leave me. I love you. I love you, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't protect you. I can't do this without your help..._I never could_...please, I love you."

Peter had never heard him say those three little words..._I love you_...and it was all Gabriel's fault. Everything was Gabriel's fault.Gabriel should've still been on the lookout for more thugs...he had promised to protect Peter and instead he had left Peter open and vulnerable. It only made sense that he should look out for the young man, Gabriel having all of the powers, after all, Peter having only held electricity at the time.

_Electricity..._Gabriel felt his lips purse tightly together as he quickly lifted his head from Peter's chest. _That was it...he suddenly knew what to do_. Gabriel placed a hand directly over Peter's heart, his own beating wildly. He focused a small concentration of bolts to rush out from his palm..._and into Peter's lifeless chest._

Gabriel felt the jolt leave his body and cascade into Peter's; and it seemed that Peter felt it too. The young man's body jerked up off the bed, his chest arching up into the air.

Peter's lips parted, "Ah!" He gasped, his eyes fluttering open in shock. He gazed around, bewildered, pain and exhaustion slowly working its way onto his face.

"Peter!" Gabriel gasped, wiping his bloodstained palm against his cheek to remove his tears. He didn't even care that it left a smear. "Peter, oh, Peter..."

"Oh...ah!" Peter cried out, his head falling back into the pillow. He let out a loud moan, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenched his jaw. "Oh, god...what happened to me?"

"You got shot...hurry, absorb my healing ability!" Gabriel insisted, grabbing Peter's wrist in his hand and holding onto it tightly. "Hurry!"

"Is...is that girl w-we saved...o-okay?" Peter groaned, his eyes widening as he gazed up at the ceiling in shock.

"Yes, yes, of course...damn it, Peter, forget that...just heal yourself!" Gabriel cried, his voice sounding high and frantic even to his own ears.

Peter gave a quick nod, taking in a deep breath as he shut his eyes once more. His hand found Gabriel's and he squeezed it tightly..._they were holding hands; palms pressed roughly together, fingers entwining with all the love and desperation that they always felt for one another. And it happened...Gabriel could feel it as he tried to press all of his love into Peter...the ability traveled too...it felt warm even as it left him, pushing up into Peter's ashen body._

Gabriel watched intently; his eyes dark and glassy. The bullet..._that cursed bullet..._it slowly pushed out of Peter's skin and fell loudly to the floor. The wound began to close..._the color was returning to Peter's body_...and all the other abrasions that the young man had collected throughout the night were now disappearing.

"God, Peter..." Gabriel gasped; pressing his still bloodied palms flesh against Peter's warming face. "Oh, Peter..."

Gabriel brought his lips down to the young man's forehead again and again..._he wanted to caress Peter with his lips for all eternity, knowing he had almost lost the man tonight_. He allowed his tears to slip down Peter's face, his lips still warm and searching as they trailed down Peter's nose and cheeks.

"It's okay." Peter murmured, his voice so soft it nearly went unheard.

"It's _not _okay!" Gabriel snapped, his hands pressing tightly into either side of Peter's head. "It's not okay, I almost lost you. I don't know who I am without you, and I could've...I don't know if I could've..."

"Gabriel, shhh. I'm alright."

"You should always take healing when we go out." Gabriel whispered, pressing his forehead up against the young man's. "You should always take healing."

"But I can't save people with healing."

_Was Peter actually arguing about how to best save people right now?_

"I don't care about that! We almost didn't save _you_." Gabriel's words were choked and heavy; they were barely making it out past the lump in his throat. "You don't need to be a hero, Peter, you need to be here for _me_. I _need _you!"

"I know, I know." Peter relented soothingly, his arms moving up to wrap tightly around Gabriel's broad back. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"I can't lose _you_." Gabriel hissed..._he had felt so angry and violent, but Gabriel didn't want to imagine that without Peter's guidance he couldn't stop himself from hurting others again_. _It was better to not vocalize such thoughts and just never find out what would happen._

"Look, I promise, everything's fine." Peter moved his head slightly so that his lips could press deeply into Gabriel's. Gabriel allowed this, the need to reconnect with Peter so desperately urgent at the moment. Peter pulled away to continue his comforting, "Shhh, you did everything right, okay? You _saved_ me, Gabriel."

_If only Peter could always heal. He used to be able too, Gabriel's gruesome and hateful cutting of Peter's skull not even leaving the slightest outward mark. But then it had been wrongfully stolen away. That had been Gabriel's fault too; he had been so caught up in feeling absolution through Peter's vengeful punches that he hadn't done enough to protect the young man from going to see Arthur._

"I wish you still had all of your powers, it doesn't make sense that you shouldn't." Gabriel moaned, the words flowing out of him along with all of his bottled anxieties.

"What do you mean, it doesn't make sense?" Peter demanded, but he was keeping his voice soft and even for Gabriel's sake. "My dad took 'em from me, you remember."

"But then you used the formula to replicate your ability. These things aren't random, Peter, it should've replicated an ability that works with _your _genetic coding. It shouldn't have been a variation of your ability at all and I don't understand..." Gabriel had never pressed this issue with Peter before..._it had always been a quiet thing that had troubled him; something that didn't seem right but he had stopped bringing it up because it seemed to upset Peter._

"Well, that's not how it turned out, alright? Now stop, that doesn't do us any good." Peter insisted, his fingers trailing lightly over Gabriel's shoulder blades.

"But if you had healing tonight then this wouldn't have happened." Gabriel hissed through gritted teeth. He pressed his lips back down into Peter's mouth, drinking him in for a moment before pulling away.

"Gabriel, stop!" Peter urged, moving his own hands up to grip onto Gabriel's face. Peter stared at him with dark, hazel eyes as if pleading with him to drop the subject. "Look, I don't understand it either but I'm at peace with it. And I don't need to know _why_."

"It's not understanding _God_, Peter, it's science!" Gabriel snapped, his own dark gaze boring sharply into the young man's. "If you had healing _too _when we went out then we would never have to worry about..."

"You can't protect me just by using abilities." Peter explained, giving Gabriel's face a small shake with his hands. "Abilities don't have all the answers, we know this."

"They have more answers then God ever gave you, I'm certain." Gabriel retorted heatedly, but an apologetic whine had already found its way in by the end of the sentence.

Peter quirked his lips at Gabriel; his hands moving to firmly press warm lips together once more..._Gabriel could still taste blood and it made his stomach drop_. "I'm at peace with what I have now. And _if _I ever die...I'll be at peace with that too."

"But I won't." Gabriel whispered, tears still stinging his vision. It had all been so real and so horrible..._and Peter had been unconscious for all of it so he should've appreciated the fact that things might've been a bit more traumatic for Gabriel._

"I know." Peter gave a small nod, his eyebrows furrowing. He gave a small, sad sigh. "But...you know, it's..." Peter hesitated, seemingly uncertain if he should share his thoughts. After a moment, he decided to continue, "It's funny you mention abilities. I almost had...like a vision or something while I was out. I...I was at my confirmation. It was exactly like what really happened; my mom was there with Nathan...my dad came in _late_...I was wearing this stuffy suit, every detail was exact. But then it..._changed_."

"How?" Gabriel asked, his mind still reeling as he tried to quiet it to follow Peter's story.

"It's hard to explain. _You _were there, I was fourteen but you were like you are now. And when I made it to the bishop, when it was my turn, he told me to leave. He said...he said I couldn't get confirmed. That I wasn't ready for the spiritual gifts, it wasn't meant for me." Peter's eyes clouded over with discontentment, his hands fisting into Gabriel's tank top for comfort. "I was really upset, so Nathan came over to comfort me. He told me that...that I needed to _understand_ somethin'. That I shouldn't doubt myself anymore. I needed to stop thinkin' that I don't know what it is that I need to do."

"What was it you were supposed to do?" Gabriel asked, quirking his head to one side, the room beginning to feel heated as his face was still pressed in-between Peter's soft palms.

"I dunno." Peter sighed, giving a small shrug. "But I kept feelin' like the gifts were supposed to represent abilities. But I don't doubt myself...and I know what I need to do; it's to use these abilities to help people."

"Maybe Nathan was trying to tell you something else." Gabriel offered, softly. "Do you often dream about him?"

Peter gave a small nod of his head. "Sometimes. I've been dreaming about him more and more; the closer it's gotten to his birthday. But you're right; I know he was trying to tell me somethin'. I know he's still trying to guide me, still trying to get me to listen."

"Maybe it was that the more abilities you have the more people you can help." Gabriel ventured, but he knew his words rang hollow for himself..._he didn't wish for any more abilities, finding contentment in finally being satisfied with what he had._

"Or maybe the more people you can hurt." Peter frowned, giving a small shake of his head. "No, these abilities have made me feel...disconnected for a really long time. I still...I still feel disconnected somehow." This admittance was difficult for Peter, but Gabriel appreciated the fact that he had felt safe enough with the latter to speak of it.

Peter took in a deep breath, his eyes blinking anxiously. "And I'm _tired_ of feeling this way. I used to _know _what people were feeling, I used to be able to relate to that. But now...it feels like I'm livin' in the same world as before but I'm missin' one of my senses."

Gabriel watched Peter's face intently, noticing the glassiness that entered his eyes as he pressed on, the words beginning to sound a little rougher. "And I _know_ it's why things are so messed up between me and my mom these days...I _know_ it's the reason I can't seem to do anything but work at the hospital..."

Peter cast an apologetic glance up at Gabriel; his eyes filled with regret. Peter's hands were slick with sweat now; it mixed in with the still-overpowering feeling of the blood that caked Gabriel's face. "I know...I know it's the reason why things always seem to be so messed up between you and me."

Gabriel remained silent, the words sinking in and leaving an uncomfortable mark. He brought his lips back down to Peter, tasting him tenderly before retreating. "You think it's your ability that makes you feel this way?"

"I don't know, man." Peter released Gabriel's face from his grasp to rush his hands up through his mess of dark hair. "When it _first _manifested...I felt more connected than ever to people. But then over the years..." Peter murmured, his eyes fluttering as he spoke. "Something changed. But it's not like I can just stop using them...I wanted these abilities my whole life and they were given to me. To save the world."

Gabriel gave a small shake of his head. "And who saves you, Peter?"

Peter closed his eyes and Gabriel could see the weight of the world settling on his weary shoulders. _Peter had such a heavy cross to bear...but even the Lord stumbled on His way to Calvary, and Peter needed to realize that._

A hushed silence filled the room; the only sound was the soft sighs that would occasionally escape either man. _Gabriel hated seeing Peter like this...so tired, so cynical. He had changed so much over the last three years. He had changed so much, and Gabriel didn't want to acknowledge that among many others things, it had also been __his__ actions that had caused that change within Peter._

"I could save you, Peter." Gabriel ventured, his voice low and uncertain as he buried his face into the crook of Peter's soft neck. "But you never allow me to."

He was met only by more silence, and he knew why Peter would not respond to him. _Gabriel couldn't save Peter, he could barely save himself. Peter was both lover __and__ guardian to Gabriel and he knew that Gabriel was in no position to save anyone. Peter had taken it upon himself to make sure that Gabriel staid a good path, although he had never wished for such a job in all his years. Nevertheless, it seemed as if it were now his forevermore._

"You don't have to worry about me, like you're my warden." Gabriel replied, feeling a bit wounded. He felt his grasp rest on Peter's arms..._feeling every inch of their strength beneath his fingertips. _"I could've killed the man that hurt you today...but I didn't."

"I'm not afraid of you hurting people." Peter responded, his voice low as it caressed Gabriel's ears with spurted, hot breaths. "But you still hurt _me_. Like today, you said a lot of things that are gonna be really hard for me to just forget. You use things against me, Gabriel, things that really cut me up bad. I trust you when we make love together, I trust that I can just let go and love you and be safe. But then today...you used what we had together last night and _mocked _me with it. And you mocked my relationship with my mother. Me and her have been...not great lately, and you _used _that against me."

Gabriel felt as if Peter had taken a knife and jabbed it in his gut; twisting said knife with every following word. _Yes, he had hurt Peter. But Peter had hurt him too, and isn't that what a relationship was? Hurting someone meant you cared enough __to__ cause them that pain, right?_

"You hurt me too." Gabriel retorted, and he moved to the other side of the pillow. _Now that he was certain Peter was home and safe, his old wounds were starting to reopen. _"You act as if I only hurt _you_, Peter."

"The only reason _you _got hurt is because you have some childish notion of saying you're sorry and getting forgiven." Peter snapped, pushing himself up onto his elbows to look Gabriel straight in the eye.

"It's not childish." Gabriel hissed, meeting Peter's gaze word for word. "_You _forgave me, why is it impossible for you to believe that anyone else could?"

_Because Peter was some superman? Peter was some Christ figure with boundless love and mercy? No, Peter was flawed...__just like everybody else__...and Gabriel refused to believe it._

"Because they won't." Peter replied, his voice dark and firm. He brought up a hand and pressed it to his bloodstained face. "I'm telling you, I know her. She won't forgive you."

"But _you_ did." Gabriel pressed, grabbing Peter by the arm..._it was still drenched in blood, but all his outward wounds had already healed. _"Peter."

The silence was painful, every loud ticking of the bedside clock like a dagger pushing itself further into Gabriel's heart. He felt tears threaten his gaze as he blinked them back angrily.

_Peter never said I forgive you_.

_Gabriel never said I love you_.

"Look, I...I gotta take a shower." Peter groaned, moving himself up off the bed. "I feel disgusting. I'll be quick, you can go after me and I'll change the bed sheets."

Gabriel didn't answer, instead watching accusingly as Peter headed towards the bathroom; still wearing Gabriel's now ruined, bloodied clothing.

The door shut behind the young man, and Gabriel released an embittered moan, his head sinking back into the pillow. _He was surrounded by blood and he hated it...he hated the smell, the look, the taste, the feel...he hated it all._

Peter. He loved Peter..._he hated the way Peter could frustrate him, anger him..._and he wished for a moment that he wasn't so damn obsessed with the young man. Wanting Peter so badly only made everything..._every argument, every rejection_...burn all the worse within him.

Yes, both Peter and Gabriel had said very hurtful things to one another that day.

But it was the unsaid words that hurt the most.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

As everyone else around it grew a year older, the ice cold tombstone remained exactly the same. It was still an unblemished black marble, it still read in engraved letters, _Nathan Petrelli. Our Beloved Son, Brother, Husband, Father. _It still was surrounded by an array of beautiful arrangements year round. It was still a simple reminder that Nathan was forever gone.

Gabriel remained silent, as he always did when he and Peter went to visit Nathan's grave. Gabriel was just thankful that Peter allowed him to come at all, but he knew it was not his place to talk. It was his place to stand close to Peter and provide emotional support, to unwaveringly stand by the young man as he addressed his older brother.

"Things have been going okay." Peter tried to give a small smile, but his lips just quirked sadly. "I've been working a lot lately."

Gabriel shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes. Peter hadn't said much to him all morning.

"Oh, so it was Simon's birthday last week." Peter admitted, his voice low but even. "I sent a card and some money. I called too."

For some reason, Peter's mundane conversations with his brother bothered Gabriel even more than when the young man used to cry and weep at Nathan's grave. It was so...casual and it carried a stabbing realization that Peter just needed to _talk _to Nathan. It was a desperate attempt to reach out and converse with a brother that was no more.

"Simon and Monty are good kids." Peter smiled, speaking of Nathan's children as he folded his arms over his chest. "Heidi told me that Monty did real good on his last math exam. She was happy, 'cuz I guess that's not his strongest subject. I know I should call them more."

Gabriel watched as a beetle scurried over his shoe. _He wondered, ever so briefly, what it might be like to be in a relationship in which he didn't have to constantly relive his biggest regret over and over and over. But that was a selfish thought, because he deserved this. He deserved every stabbing pain that Peter's heartache brought him._

"I saw Ma yesterday." Peter added, trying to lighten his voice even though it was laced with hurt. "We talked for a long time. Things aren't great between us right now, Nathan. If you were here, you'd tell me what to do, whether I'd want to hear it or not."

Gabriel shifted on his feet as he lifted his eyes towards Peter. _Every Sunday afternoon_. Gabriel and Peter visited Nathan's grave every Sunday afternoon. In the early times, Peter spent most of the visit telling Nathan how much he missed him, how much hurt still resided inside of Peter over the loss, and how life would never be the same. Now he just talked.

And Gabriel just stood in the background and listened.

_Every Sunday afternoon. Sometimes he didn't want to go; sometimes he wished he didn't have to feel the hurt he had caused Peter washing over him again and again and again like some poisonous wave. But Gabriel had taken Peter's brother away from him. It was only right that Gabriel feel some of the suffering now. And if he ever told Peter he wasn't coming one Sunday afternoon...well, he knew that something very important would break into many unfixable pieces._

"Heidi's doing well though." Peter went on, continuing to hug himself for warmth, although the noonday sun was quite hot. "She said it's gonna be a hard week for her too. She didn't like the way things ended between you guys. She wishes you guys coulda made it right. She can't come here yet, it's all too hard for her still. But she wanted me to tell you that she never stopped loving you. But I told her I think you knew that."

_Heidi was Nathan's wife. He had cheated on her, but none of that seemed to matter now. Nathan had been loved despite his flaws. Despite his lies. Despite his disloyalty. _

"I love you, Nathan." Peter murmured, bending down and pressing his lips to the top of the tombstone. He brushed a hand lovingly over the words _Nathan Petrelli_ before straightening up once more. He took in a shaky breath, pressing a fist firmly against his lips.

Gabriel reached out an uncertain hand and placed it on Peter's shoulder. The former squeezed it tightly, trying to bridge some of the gap that still resided between them since their argument from yesterday.

Peter gave a heavy sigh. Without turning around, he reached up to place a hand on top of Gabriel's. "It's gonna be a rough week."

Gabriel gave a small nod. He had once thought he was a Petrelli. He had loved Angela, he had loved Peter. But he had never loved Nathan. Nathan had been the selfish, disloyal brother. Nathan had seemed to be the important one, but he had only been a pale shadow of the great man his younger brother truly was, in Gabriel's mind. But Nathan had been the most important Petrelli in Gabriel's life. He realized that now much too late.

_Peter hated him. Sylar realized that he had welcomed Peter's hate in his life before...as long as Peter felt __something __towards him, Sylar was content...but he now knew that he wanted more from the young man. They were family. Sylar had always wanted a little brother and Peter had blissfully provided him the opportunity to have one at last. Everything just needed to be okay now...mother and two brothers reunited at last...Sylar so desperately wished that to be his reality._

_But Peter still hated Sylar. Maybe he always would._

_But Sylar didn't hate Peter. __Had he ever?__ No, he was inexplicably drawn to the man again and again for reasons that hadn't made sense until only recently. __He was obsessed with Peter's expressive eyes...with his full lips...only because they were Sylar's eyes, they were Sylar's lips. They shared the same genetic code and it was only natural that Sylar feel that way._

_But Peter hated him._

_Peter had locked Sylar back in his cell as the younger man had gone on to Pinehearst to be a hero all alone once more. Sylar was restrained across his chest and arms with another belt going across his legs. A sedation tube had been inserted into his nose, effectively drugging him._

_But none of that mattered now. Peter hated Sylar and he probably always would. There was no forgiveness for Sylar. There was no love for Sylar. There was no brotherhood to share and no friendship to extend._

"_Gabriel."_

_The voice shook him from his thoughts. It was coming from inside the cell. It was the voice of someone soft and soothing and Sylar lifted his head off of the table in surprise to see his mother standing unassumingly before him, hands clasped in front of her._

_Angela was a beautiful woman, with raven, night black hair and eyes that were bright just like Peter's. She looked a lot like Peter, actually, her dark features offset by her creamy smooth skin. She was a stern looking woman, but Sylar knew that just beneath her stony exterior laid a mother who was fighting for her children._

"_Mom!" Sylar gasped, his voice raspy and concerned. "How are you here, you're sick."_

"_Peter needs your help." She stated, in a matter of fact way, clearly eluding his question. She watched him very pointedly...her eyes were sharp and focused like Peter's too._

"_Peter doesn't want anything to do with me." Sylar whispered, bitterly. __Peter hated him. __"He thinks I'm just a killer."_

"_This isn't about what he wants; this is about what I'm telling you to do." Angela replied. Her voice remained calm but there was a clear command to it...it gripped Sylar's attention completely. "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and get out of this cell."_

_Feeling sorry for himself. Is that what this feeling was? It was so familiar and bitter...so overwhelmingly helpless...and he had always thought it was the feeling he got when someone he cared about spat upon him...when his hopes for the future were once more dashed by his hopeless realities. But now Angela offered him an alternative...one that it almost frightened him to take. To admit his destiny lied in his own hands was a scary thing. A definitive thing._

"_This is where I belong. In a cage." Sylar murmured. __Peter hated him. __ "I couldn't escape even if I wanted to, they're blocking my abilities."_

_Angela stared at him with trembling intensity. She was trying to tell him something. Something he had always known, subconsciously, but had never taken full advantage of._

"_Then how do you explain my being here." Angela stated, simply. She gave a small smile and walked over towards him, "Oh, Gabriel. You don't know the half of what you're capable of."_

_What he was capable of. She didn't mean murder; she didn't mean the depths of depravity that he could sink to._

_She was talking about how special he was._

_Of course. He wasn't just special; he was the most powerful of them all. He had known it to be true, why had he ever doubted himself. He was indeed feeling sorry for himself now, languishing away when he could be showing the world just how great the doubted middle Petrelli child had always been._

"_Show them." She smiled, and he could feel his self-doubt melting away at her belief in him. "Show them all why you're my favorite. Make mommy proud."_

_Sylar's eyes flashed open and he quickly realized that the previous dream had indeed been Angela, visiting his mind through use of her own power. Her words invigorated him. His mother believed in him and there wasn't any way he could fail her now. He was her favorite child...__and Peter was his to save, whether Peter wanted that to be true or not._

_Sylar lifted his head off of the table, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. Using all his mental strength, he felt the straps around his chest snap open. __Oh, god. He was the most powerful of all and he would make his mother so proud__. His legs straps followed as he raised a hand to yank the sedation tube cleanly out of his nose. He felt himself rise off of the cell table, a flick of his hand making the door fly open._

_He hurried to Angela's room, his feet carrying him through the corridors at a rapid pace. __He never should have wallowed in self-pity, not when Peter needed him so badly. Oh, he would be Peter's hero. God, that thought sent shivers down his spine._

_It was only a few moments later as Sylar entered Angela's bedroom. She still lay unmoving, looking so serene and pretty. Sylar moved towards her, slipping a hand up into her raven tresses to gently caress them. He tenderly placed a soft kiss to the side of her head as he whispered, "Don't worry, Mom. I'll save Peter."_

_Saving Peter was a beautiful thought. Maybe afterword, Peter's bright eyes would be alight with gratitude just like his mother's would be too. Maybe he'd even call Sylar his hero. Sylar pictured the words flowing from those lips...__my hero__...__my hero__..._

_Oh. That would be wonderful._

_Sylar had quickened his pace to Pinehearst, stopping only to look up at the tall building's intimidating grandeur once he had arrived._

_Sylar paused, thinking through the slew of powers he held. Stealth seemed to make the most sense at the moment, and Sylar quickly bent the light shards around his form, essentially cloaking him from the human eye. He walked into the building, easily avoiding security as he made his way through the unfamiliar corridors._

_Peter hadn't been hard to find, he had apparently caused quite a stir earlier. __That wasn't difficult to believe.__ He was now being held in one of the medical centers. Sylar rounded the corner just in time. Peter was captured and tied to a gurney. There was also a doctor in the room...and Mohinder Suresh. Sylar blinked in surprise, he had seen Mohinder only a few months ago and was surprised to see the young doctor appeared to be employed by Pinehearst now._

_Mohinder seemed to be about to give Peter an injection of some sort while Peter obviously was trying to pull himself away from the approaching needle._

_Sylar narrowed his eyes uncertainly. The last time he had seen Peter and Mohinder together it had been in Mohinder's apartment...__it had been the first time Peter had revealed himself to be special...it was the first time Sylar noticed Peter's lips. __ Peter had saved Mohinder's life that day and this seemed to be poor repayment on the doctor's part. But Sylar had long known that Mohinder struggled with morality once scientific progress was involved. His father hadn't been much different._

_Mohinder had betrayed Sylar. But he wasn't going to be allowed to harm Peter._

_With a mere wave of his hand the syringe went flying out of Mohinder's hand. __Peter jerked up in surprise, his eyes widening. No doubt he thought himself to be left alone to whatever fate the injection had held for him...but he wasn't alone. And he didn't have to be alone anymore. _

_Mohinder looked up quickly, those large black eyes taking in the sight of Sylar with both disbelief and disgust._

_Sylar tried to remain impassive. "Hello, Mohinder."_

_There was another doctor who had been attempting to hurt Peter...he would die for his indiscretion. He decided on allowing Mohinder a reprieve...__although Sylar doubted he deserved one__...but Mohinder had once been a friend to Sylar, after all, no matter how long ago or how terribly the young doctor had betrayed him later on. Sylar was desperately trying to be a good person and granting Mohinder another shred of mercy seemed only right._

_Another wave of Sylar's hand sent Mohinder crashing against the wall before slumping to the floor. The other doctor...__the one who had tried to hurt Peter__... found himself impaled upon the knobs that led to the pipeline in the room._

_Hurting Peter was wrong now._

_Sylar walked towards Peter's bedside, his dark brown eyes trained fervently on the young man who lay before him. Those beautiful, expressive eyes were teeming with emotion...__they were always so emotional__...and this moment was no different._

_Peter was thankful. He was also amazed, the emotion bleeding all over his husky tone as he murmured, "You came for me."_

_Sylar felt his heart leap up in his throat. __For the first time since both men's paths had inexplicably crossed...after the homecoming, and crying out for Peter's power only to be denied...and Peter's anger towards him in Kirby Plaza...and all the blows and pain that Peter had showered on him...for the first time since destiny thrust them together, Peter didn't look upon him with even the slightest bit of hatred._

_Sylar tried to drink up the look in those shining hazel eyes and take a mental picture of them. Peter didn't hate him right now. God, Peter didn't hate him. It didn't matter if Peter continued to curse Sylar's name to the grave, for the smallest moment in time...Peter didn't hate him._

"_That's what brothers do, Peter." Sylar tried to explain, the words feeling heavy leaving his throat. He worked diligently at freeing Peter from his restraints. He gave a slight pause, his eyes catching Peter's once more. __Gold and hazelnut brown...no hatred...no fear_.  _"They look out for each other."_

_Peter's eyes widened with contrite sincerity. There were so many unreadable emotions...__Sylar had never been good with understanding the feelings of others that he himself had not felt...__but Peter seemed to be thinking that he had been angry and unkind towards Sylar. And yet Sylar still risked his own well-being to save Peter...the strong loyalty that ran deep through Peter's veins seemed to respond to such an action._

_But Peter need not feel sorry for anything. "Let's get out of here." Sylar urged, as if Peter's past actions were merely water under the bridge. They were brothers united in the cause of saving their family, their beloved mother. All was forgiven in Sylar's mind._

_But without the slightest warning, Mohinder had suddenly leapt back up, grabbing Sylar with a force the tall, young man hadn't realized the doctor could possibly possess. He manically began to repeatedly bash Sylar's head into the hard cement floor, causing intense jolts of pain to rivet down from his skull to the rest of his body. _

_Peter's face changed to horror as he rushed over to Mohinder's side. "No, stop, leave him alone!" Peter shouted, distressed._

_But as if he were now somehow ten times stronger, Mohinder flailed an arm backwards that collided with Peter's body, sending Peter falling to the floor with a thud._

"_He deserves to die!" Mohinder cried out, and there was a raw and bloody vengeance ringing in his strained voice. _

_Sylar never understood...__yes, he had killed Mohinder's father. But Sylar could never understand why the young doctor held him so much brutal animosity. Not for this bloodthirsty beating; Sylar's head colliding so roughly with the floor that he felt all his senses leave him more and more with each subsequent hit._

"_Peter!" There was an older man who now stepped forward. He had a stern face, short, gray hair, and a business suit. He shot blue electricity out of his fingertips, his aim right for Peter's head._

_Peter quickly ducked down, watching as the electricity burned directly above him. He stumbled backwards, catching himself on one hand before pushing himself back up._ _The man directed another electricity blast towards Peter, but this one hit an electric socket just above the young man's head. Peter turned on his heels, taking off down the empty corridor._

_A pang of betrayal burned in Sylar's heart even as he felt himself begin to lose his grip on reality, the smell and feel of blood clearly splattering out from beneath his smashed head._

"_This is for killing my father." Mohinder seethed, his punishment was like his rage...it was without satisfaction._

_Sylar felt his eyes roll back up in his head as a dark nothingness started to swallow him up. Peter had abandoned him. After all they had been through together, after Sylar had just promised never to leave Peter alone and vulnerable again...Peter had left Sylar without a second thought._

_The physical pain stopped as soon as Sylar's vision of the room spun away into bitter darkness, wondering how Peter could've left him just when Sylar thought Peter had finally stopped hating him._

Relationships. Gabriel had never had much experience with relationships in his own life. He had a few unrequited crushes, a brief relationship kindled with a woman he later went on to murder, and an ongoing and never ceasing hunger for Peter. But aside from these brief yet passionate encounters, Gabriel had almost no experience in cultivating something lasting with another human being.

Such things required a great deal of empathy, Gabriel imagined. He had never been good with empathy..._he always knew how he felt. That was easy. How on earth was one supposed to know how anyone else felt?_

Peter, on the other hand, was brimming with empathy..._like right now for instance, he knew Gabriel was upset. He __knew__ this but he refused to acknowledge it, because he himself was still mad at Gabriel from yesterday. Having empathy and using it were sometimes two different actions all together._

Relationships. It seemed that Peter had plenty of experiences with relationships. _There were names...sometimes faces, sometimes stories...but mostly just names. Nathan didn't know much about them usually; Peter kept details about his relationships to himself. But that their names existed at all angered Gabriel to no end. Who were all these people of Peter's past...and had he said I love you to all of them? If so, Peter's 'I love you' hadn't meant anything in the end...somehow love with each one had either ended by burning out in a blaze or slowly dying like embers in a fire. The thought was upsetting. Was Gabriel just another name, just another 'I love you'? If Peter didn't see their story the same way Gabriel did...__didn't see that destiny had bound them together whether it was right or wrong...__maybe none of this meant anything in the long run._

Maybe Gabriel was just someone that Peter could punish for an eternity..._making Gabriel visit the graves of his victims so that he could never hope to escape the terror he had caused..._hearing Peter cry, feeling Peter hurt, knowing that all the pain and turmoil that churned inside of Peter..._the man he loved_...was all his fault.

_But Gabriel deserved the pain, deserved the punishment._

Gabriel glanced up earnestly at Peter who was washing dishes. The young man had been quiet, no doubt thinking about his brother once more. Gabriel was certain that he would be hurting over losing Nathan even more this week, what with his birthday just around the corner.

Gabriel felt his dark brown eyes intensify. It wasn't right that Peter should hurt so much. What if Peter could just stop...could just _forget_ somehow what Gabriel had done...

Gabriel let out a low gasp, his hands immediately coming up to grip onto either side of his head. _Evil thoughts would still sometimes whisper unwelcome into Gabriel's vulnerable mind. _Yes, Gabriel's had Matt Parkman's power and could easily push thoughts..._could easily convince Peter to simply forget that Gabriel had killed Nathan, could easily make Peter decide that Gabriel would forever be the only person that ever mattered in his life...Angela be damned._

But Gabriel deserved the pain, deserved the punishment. And he could never do that to Peter..._Gabriel had killed Nathan and it was his sin to hold onto forever._

"You've been quiet." Peter spoke suddenly, casting a glance in Gabriel's direction. Maybe Gabriel's dark, brooding eyes had unnerved him slightly.

"So have you." Gabriel countered, trying to banish the last of the unholy ideas completely. "It's just a quiet day, isn't it?"

Peter gave a slow nod, his eyes giving several heavy blinks. "Yeah."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair as he grabbed his water bottle off of the table and brought it to his lips. He watched Peter again, intently, wondering if things would feel better if he just grabbed the young man and took him to the bedroom.

_Sometimes it was the only way Gabriel knew how to fix things since he was so at a loss when it came to matters of the heart. But he knew how to use his body, and he knew how to expertly manipulate Peter's, until Peter was feeling very good and thankful and a sense of peace and happiness was reestablished between the two men._

But grabbing Peter didn't feel nearly as safe right now as it had a couple nights ago. He hated any form of rejection from Peter and Gabriel was feeling much too vulnerable and lonely over their previous day's arguments to receive any refusal from the young man today.

Still, his heart was aching inside of his chest, and Gabriel wondered if speaking those words would somehow lessen the pain. "Peter." He called out, softly, his eyes darting down towards the tabletop. _The last place they had made love together. _"Peter, please come here."

Peter paused from washing dishes, his hands sunk in the soapy, warm water. He turned his head towards Gabriel, a small sigh escaping his lips. "What is it?"

"I said please come here." Gabriel tried again, just as quietly.

Peter wiped his hands on a dishrag before walking over towards the table. He sat down on the chair next to Gabriel, his eyes wide with curiosity at the other man's words.

"Yeah?" Peter asked, leaning over, his elbow on his knee.

Gabriel's eyes darted back up to Peter. _Beautiful man...and he was all Gabriel's. _And maybe intimacy was the only way to fix all these hurt feelings...saying you were sorry certainly never did. Because saying you were sorry was just parroting words a person thought they were supposed to say, all the while still being at a complete loss as to how truly to fix the situation. And maybe there were better ways than intimacy to fix a problem, but Gabriel didn't know what they were at the moment. But he knew Peter's body and what it responded too. And he loved Peter during it, and he knew Peter felt that.

Gabriel reached out a trembling hand and placed it to Peter's soft cheek. _Peter's eyes slipped shut, but from pleasure or pain Gabriel wasn't certain_. Gabriel gently brought his lips in to Peter's, delighting as those full lips touched his own. _He was obsessed with those lips_. They were so soft and so perfect...they molded into his own as he kissed Peter tenderly.

He knew Peter wasn't kissing him back yet, but it didn't matter. He was kissing Peter with gentle force, feeling the shockwaves beginning to roil through him at the pressure it provided him.

"Peter..." Gabriel murmured, and he prodded at Peter's lips with his tongue, begging entrance to begin consuming the young man.

But all the pleasant warmth drifted away as Peter gave a small shake of his head, his eyes opening once more. "Gabriel, listen..."

"Don't say no, Peter." Gabriel pleaded, his eyes dark and aching. "Please. I need you. _I need you_..."

"Gabriel, not right now."

"No." Gabriel murmured, keeping his hand on Peter's face so that he could lovingly stroke it. "I'll make you feel good, Peter. I don't even need anything in return."

"Look, I'm just not feeling..." Peter gave a heavy sigh, his lips pursing tightly.

"No." Gabriel insisted again, his hand rounding to the back of Peter's head in order to grasp onto the man's thick locks. "I know...I know I hurt you. But I want to...make it better."

Peter went silent, his eyes dropping towards the floor.

_Peter was usually so receptive; he accepted Gabriel's intimate initiations on most occasions. Sometimes he couldn't if he had to work a very early shift the next morning, but the hesitance right now was only because of the words said yesterday. Gabriel had to fix that, he had to show Peter he could be trusted again._

Gabriel pressed his lips down onto Peter's neck; slowly working his heated mouth against the pulse he knew drove Peter wild. He felt the young man shiver beneath his attentions, involuntarily moving his neck back to allow Gabriel full access.

"I'm sorry." Gabriel whispered, suckling on Peter's skin until he heard the first of Peter's soft moans reach his ears. Gabriel didn't care if saying _I'm sorry _was overrated. The English language had a limited amount of words and none of them could hope to accurately convey all the regret and love he held for Peter.

"I...I know." Peter gasped, his own voice just as low. "But I'm just not in the mood, Gabriel, can you appreciate that?"

Gabriel's heart resounded angrily in his chest. He turned to bury his face into Peter's shoulder, gritting his teeth tightly together. "Please don't say no."

Peter was silent again, but this time he brought his hands up to gently stroke at Gabriel's thick, dark hair. Peter's hands were warm and encompassing; he had a slow, unassuming way of touching that was the equivalent of unhurriedly stoking a fire until it came to a heated roar.

"What am I supposed to do?" Gabriel wondered aloud, and he was feeling small and childish once more. He hated when he felt that way around Peter..._he was supposed to be a man, he was supposed to be strong for Peter. _ "I need your help."

_Peter's hands were so calm, like a gentle stream of water delicately caressing the stones beneath, evening all the jagged, sharp edges away until all was smoothed out again._

Peter's face was softening; the hardness in his eyes had melted away. He cupped Gabriel's face in his hands and brought his mouth softly back to the latter's. He released a small sigh, gently worrying his bottom lip once he pulled away. "Okay." He finally relented, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's alright."

_Sylar awoke to find himself suspended in midair and unable to escape. He demanded to know what was happening, trying to remain defiant in his slight fear. He realized that it was the man with gray hair who had shot electricity at Peter that was now restraining his movements. The man had simply replied that he was Sylar's father. Sylar was shocked, the admission like an icy cold bucket of water drenching him in utter disbelief. The man was named Arthur Petrelli, and he was talking to another special individual who had the power to create blue fire out of thin air._

"_Building's sealed up tight. If Peter's still here, he ain't gettin' out." It was the special man speaking, he had been locked up in Level 5 too, before the woman with the wild, blond hair had freed and recruited him for Pinehearst._

"_Peter's long gone." Sylar snapped, defiantly. __Peter had left Sylar after Sylar had promised Peter that the young man would never have to face the world on his own ever again. They had been made both brothers and all-powerful for a reason. To defend each other, to make sure that nothing bad happened to either man whether inflicted upon them by some outside evil or merely self-inflicted._

_Still, this man with the blue fire was angering Sylar. He had intentions to hurt Peter...__and Sylar ached to understand his power...to burn his bloodied body with it after Sylar had finished sawing open the man's skull._

_Arthur and the man both turned to look at Sylar, as if forgetting his presence somehow._

"_When I find him, do you want him crispy or well done?" The man asked, and he was trying to anger Sylar further with his insolent words. He wouldn't be so happy when Sylar had him pinned to a wall begging for mercy...__oh god, he wanted that fire coursing through his own veins so badly._

"_Alive, please." Arthur clarified. He then turned his full attention towards Sylar. "I sent somebody to recruit you and you refused her offer, I didn't expect to see you here."_

"_My mother's in a coma, did you do that?" Sylar demanded, his eyes boring into Arthur with strong dislike. Maybe the man was his father, but he had been just like the father Sylar had known before...abandoning him and his mother...leaving her with deteriorating health...leaving Sylar to wonder why even in this new reality, he was given a father that was still unconcerned for his son's wellbeing. Maybe it was Sylar's fault after all._

_He had always suspected such, wondering if he had somehow been a better child...a more loveable child...than his original father may have never left them. _

_Peter didn't look much like his father, taking after his maternal lineage, clearly. But he walked like his father, held himself like his father. Peter had been rich growing up, and although the young man seemed to always dress and act otherwise, he could never distance the way in which he carried himself._

"_Angela's not the women you think she is, Gabriel, she's done terrible things." Arthur explained, beginning to circle Sylar closely._

"_So have I, and I'm going to do them all to you." Sylar snapped defiantly, glaring at Arthur angrily. His threats were very real...__for Arthur had hurt his mother. His father had hurt his mother again, leaving Sylar feeling lost and empty once more. And this time he had the means to show his father how angry and hateful that had always made him feel inside._

"_Has Angela forgiven your sins?" Arthur wondered, folding his arms over his chest._

"_My mother accepts me for who I am." Sylar retorted, for indeed, absolution was impossible, he had learned that early on enough. God had turned a deaf ear towards his pleas of forgiveness after all. But acceptance...that was something only Angela had granted him thus far and for that he was grateful._

_Arthur pursed his lips in thought as he began to walk away. "I wonder if you will be so generous."_

_Sylar squinted in slight confusion, a small, early fluttering of dread beating against his heart. "What are you talking about?"_

"_She sent you here, didn't she, to save her favorite son." Arthur was watching Sylar closely and his words were purposefully indicating Peter as the aforementioned favorite. "She tell you that you were all going to live happily ever after?"_

_The mock indifference in Arthur's tone conveyed that he was long wise to and weary of Angela's schemes. Sylar felt his dread grow stronger the nibbling familiarity of self-doubt beginning to ask unwanted questions...__naive, stupid Gabriel had always wanted a new family...a mother that wasn't mentally unstable...or dead by his own hand...had he been too trusting?_

_As if sensing his sudden rise of doubt, Arthur kept pushing on. "She's using you son, as a weapon. As a blunt instrument to be manipulated..." Sylar jerked his head backwards as Arthur concluded this statement coldly, "...and then discarded."_

_Sylar had loved his mother, Virginia. But sometimes he couldn't help but feel that he hated her too. She never understood, she never took care of the house, she never realized that her constant need to be calmed down was driving him to equal insanity. And then came the moment she had looked at him...looked at him like she had so often looked at all the imaginary monsters that plagued her mind...only this time the monster wasn't imaginary._

_But Angela had been different. She had loved him regardless of his past. She had offered him a new lease on life. She had offered him something he had never experienced, not in all of his years. She had offered him hope._

_But naïve, stupid Gabriel just wanted a new family. He'd believe anything._

_Sylar tried to scoff, but he felt his resolve weakening. "My mother loves me."_

"_When you were born she had one of her dreams, a vision of the future. She saw what you would become." Arthur began to explain, his eyes as cold as ice._

_Sylar quickly interrupted, eager to prove Arthur wrong. "I know this; she told me I become a hero!"_

_The hero he had always wanted to be. He used to pray to God for some special power, something that would make him different and elevate him above the rest of humanity...a hero like Peter was now._

_Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Did she? Angela was so terrified of what she saw, so frightened of her own flesh and blood, that she tried to kill you..."_

_Sylar watched Arthur's mouth move to say the words, but his ears were desperately trying to block them from his mind. No. He was seeing it all again, he was seeing his mother, Virginia, with a pair of scissors raised warningly in her hands. He saw her willing to stab him. He saw the resoluteness to pierce the demon's heart and watch it die, and then the vision slowly and sickeningly began to change..._

_Angela was standing before him, dark raven hair falling around her stone-cold face, a pair of scissors held menacingly before her._

_No one had ever loved him. __Stupid Gabriel. Sylar knew better. That's why Sylar always hid behind a mask for safety._

_Sylar was evil...a villain...and that's why Peter had never stopped hating him even if they were brothers. It was why Peter was the only man on earth with a heart large enough to forgive Sylar and even he denied Sylar mercy._

_It was suddenly getting very hard to breathe, the room seeming to squeeze all the oxygen out of his lungs._

"_Imagine, a mother wanting to murder her own child." Arthur continued, releasing Sylar from his hold. Sylar fell roughly to the floor, but the pain was dull and far away._

_Arthur spoke again, his voice unwavering in the veracity of his words._ _"I got to the bathroom just in time. She was holding you at the bottom of the tub."_

_No, no, no. Now it was Virginia holding the struggling baby under the tub water...now it was Angela stabbing him repeatedly with the scissors...now it was little Gabriel listening to how he had been named after the angel in the Bible...now it was Sylar realizing that he had always been of the Devil...and Peter had been right all along. Peter was cruel and spiteful but he had never lied to Sylar. He had always told Sylar that the latter was condemned and Sylar wondered why he had ever doubted Peter's words._

_Sylar realized that his hands had been lifted above his head almost as a means of self-preservation. He looked up at Arthur in horror before tearing his eyes away; his heart pounding against his ribcage as his lungs ached and constricted painfully in his chest._

_Arthur outstretched his hand in an offer to pull Sylar back on his feet. "It's time you learn the truth about your mother."_

_Sylar returned his gaze to Arthur but did not take his hand at first. "Why did you give me away then?"_

_Arthur watched Sylar intently. "It was the only way to keep you safe from Angela. It was only a matter of time until she tried to kill you again."_

_Sylar tentatively took Arthur's hand and he slightly feared the man the moment their fingers touched...he had never had a father. Mothers were small and comforting creatures but fathers...he found he didn't rightly know. It was all a bit scary. "I don't understand..."_

"_Angela never loved you. She sent you here for Peter alone." _ _Arthur replied, and Sylar tightly shut his eyes as if to shield himself from any more hurtful words._

"_Peter." Sylar whispered, wrapping his arms around his chest to comfort himself. "What are you gonna to do to him when you find him?"_

"_If he becomes a threat he must be gotten rid of." Arthur explained, calmly. "He's always mindlessly been under the influence of his mother. He's dangerous now."_

_Sylar turned away from Arthur quickly. __Peter had been right about everything. He had never lied to Sylar.__ And Peter was still his little brother to protect, regardless if it was right or wrong any longer. And for once in his life, Sylar had felt someone look upon him with kindness, with gratitude...__Peter couldn't die, he was like Sylar. The universe needed Peter to save it from Sylar, hadn't that been made clear so many times to both men?_

"_Peter's still in the building." Arthur explained, ignoring Sylar's inner struggle. "He's going to come back here. I want you to try and talk some sense into him, but if he refuses to listen to us then we have no choice but to either restrain him or stop him for good."_

"_What makes you so sure he'll come back at all?" Sylar shot back, turning around to face his father once more._

"_I took his powers from him." Arthur replied, simply. "He'll want them back."_

_Sylar sucked in another deep gasp of air. "You...you can do that?"_

"_He was being difficult, it had to be done."_

_Peter was powerless, that's why he had run initially. Peter was powerless. But Peter was his equal...without Peter, what was Sylar, after all...everything felt as if it were rapidly deteriorating before him, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. The world had just been turned on its head and Sylar no longer knew if he were right side up or upside down._

_Sylar turned away again, noticing a chair in the corner. He quickly headed towards it, his legs feeling as if they were about to give out from underneath him. He felt as if he had just been punched in the gut repeatedly and his head was spinning._

_Angela was stabbing him with the scissors again and he was bleeding. He wasn't sure how long he sat that, eyes trained to the far side of the room, feeling those cursed scissors piercing through his skin again and again and again..._

_It was as if she was draining all of the blood from his body; staining him in its crimson pool as he sat lifelessly in that chair._

_It could have been hours later or maybe only seconds. But the sound of the door slamming open roused Sylar from his thoughts. Sylar moved his head towards the noise, surprised to see Peter striding through the door purposefully._

_Peter had staid. Impossible. Had he come back for Sylar?_

_Sylar jumped to his feet eagerly, failing to temper his rush of emotions. Peter was approaching him quickly, that look of loyal sincerity still burning in those hazel eyes._

"_Peter, you staid?" Sylar asked, his heart skipping a beat as he spoke the words. __Peter didn't hate him..._

"_I wasn't gonna leave you." Peter insisted, reaching a hand out towards his older brother. __Peter was loyal...loyal to a fault...and Sylar loved him for it. How much misery had Sylar inflicted upon Peter in the past, how often had Sylar tried to tear Peter down and rip him apart, how much had he hurt Peter only to receive this in response...simply due to one act of kindness on Sylar's part. Peter was truly a beautiful soul and Sylar didn't deserve any of it._

"_What are you doing just sitting here; did he take your powers?"Peter asked, his voice holding a hint of concern in it._

_Poor Peter. Poor sweet, naïve Peter. He had been manipulated by Angela his whole life, he just never realized it. Of one thing Sylar was glad of, he was infinitely more aware than Peter of what a horrible race human beings truly were. And mothers were not exempt from that._

"_No, he told me the truth." Sylar replied, very evenly._

_And now Peter could hear the truth too,_

_But Peter's face changed instantly, a darkness washing over him. "You can't listen to him!"_

_Sylar watched the young man in disbelief. "But he's our father!"_

"_He's my father, I grew up with him." Peter snapped, his eyes flashing angrily. There was an urgency present there, his jaw tightening with a need to convey his words._

_But Sylar bristled at them. __And was Sylar never to have the answers then, simply because he was robbed of what his childhood should have been? How was that fair?_

"_Oh, and I didn't, so I don't get to know him, is that what you're saying?" Sylar tried to sound tough, but he knew the hurt was seeping into his tone far heavier than he would've liked._

_Peter was getting frustrated, he seemed to think that Sylar was being childish by worrying over his own problems when larger issues loomed. __How many times would Sylar later see that look? Was this when Peter forever stopped being the little brother? When both realized that while Peter always needed to save the world...Sylar couldn't get beyond trying to save himself._

"_He can't be trusted." Peter insisted, urgently, but Sylar noted his effort to try and keep his voice reasonable for Sylar's sake. "You've seen what he's done. He hurt mom."_

_Sylar glanced down in thought. How desperately he wanted to believe Peter. To believe Angela. But the truth...the truth had always eluded him...because he had become so used to accepting people's half-truths and outright lies that he had never known any different. But now __he__ was different and he was able to take matters into his own hands._

_No longer was he the little boy that asked when his father was coming home only to be quickly hushed. His father was finally with him after all these years, and Sylar would no longer be quieted in his questioning of that relationship._

_But Peter pressed on, "He's manipulated abilities, I know where that leads."_

_God, how he wanted to believe Peter. How could he stay with Arthur knowing that the man was going to kill Peter...__Peter would never betray Angela, he was loyal to a fault.__ But those expressive eyes...Sylar never wanted to see them turn glassy again...never wanted to see those full lips part lifelessly. He had seen it happen twice already, once at homecoming and again in Mohinder's apartment. But not now, not while he knew the family bond that entwined them._

_A decision loomed before him and Sylar knew Arthur was near._

"_The world you saw doesn't exist." Arthur said, entering the room. Both Sylar and Peter turned towards him as he continued, "We won't let it."_

_Peter had shared a destiny with Sylar over and over when neither man had sought out the other. Peter was still his little brother. Peter had looked upon him with sincere gratitude._

_Peter had never lied to him._

_Peter had the most beautiful eyes and lips Sylar had ever seen._

"_Sorry, Peter, this is something I have to do." Sylar explained, turning to closely look at Peter. Sylar needed the truth, needed it if he ever wanted to be sane again, but Peter just needed to be safe._

"_Help him and you're proving all the worst things I've ever said about you." Peter's voice was insistent, his eyes trained to Sylar's face. "Just kick his ass and let's get out of here!"_

_Sylar raised his hand to his chest. __He couldn't watch Peter die a third time.__ "Oh, I'm not going anywhere, Peter." He murmured, as he raised an eyebrow. "You are."_

_And he flicked his fingers...watched closely as Peter went flying backwards...violently crashing through the glass window...shards littering the floor in thousands of shining pieces...Peter falling helplessly to the ground below..._

_Sylar closed his eyes tightly...__slow down, slow down._

_Sylar felt his mind's eye slow Peter's fall so that the impact was brutal but not lethal. He slowly reopened his eyes, a sudden loss filling him. Peter was gone again._

_He had finally had Peter by his side, their newfound uneasy alliance torn asunder all too suddenly. Peter was gone again and Sylar was alone once more._

"_Peter's never going to give up you know." And now Sylar wasn't sure if he was warning Arthur so much as comforting himself._

"_I would expect nothing less of a Petrelli." Arthur replied, hinting heavily that he was speaking to Sylar about what was expected of __him__. "Revenge is in our blood."_

_Sylar gave a little sidelong glance towards Arthur. Yes, revenge, but not revenge on Peter. Revenge on Angela, the one who had lied to him. The one who had hurt him, had toyed with his emotions and raped him of his trust once more._

"_We're just going to wait for him to come after us." Sylar stated, curiously._

"_No, son." Arthur corrected, resolutely. "We're gonna take our fight to the enemy."_

_Sylar gave a mirthless grin, his eyes still trained to the jagged hole in the window that Peter had created only moments ago._

_Peter was gone again._

_Sylar felt a burning rage begin to churn in his stomach. __He wanted revenge on everyone who always made him feel this way. First, Chandra Suresh had lied to him...promised him salvation before handing him damnation...now Angela...his mother...his mother._

"_How do you suppose Peter survived that fall?" Arthur interrupted Sylar's thoughts, his words jarring. "Seven stories without the ability to heal. Hell of a thing."_

_Sylar turned towards Arthur very slowly, quirking an eyebrow in response. He didn't want to answer the question, but that was okay. He had become very good at lying too. "I don't know." He answered, softly._

_Arthur gave a knowing smirk, but Sylar found he hardly cared if Arthur realized the truth or not._

"_Peter is not the man you think he is either." Arthur stated, solemnly. "Do not mistake his weakness for anything other than what it is."_

"_Weakness?" Sylar repeated, his eyes falling harshly on Arthur once more._

_Peter had always been so brave whenever Sylar had seen him._

"_Yes, weakness." Arthur repeated, placing great emphasis on his words. "A personality trait I see has thankfully not manifested in you."_

_Sylar felt a small bubble of pride. His father thought he was strong. That was good...that's how he had always hoped a father would see him.___

_But he had a nagging sense that Arthur was wrong. Peter was exactly the man that Sylar thought he was. He was stupid and naïve...__he was brave and defiant...__and for just a moment, he had believed he and Sylar could work side by side._

_Sylar watched the window closely once more, as if willing Peter to come back through it. If Peter had a weakness, it was that he trusted that humanity was as good as he._

_Had Sylar done the right thing in sending Peter away?_

_Yes. Yes, Sylar was sick of not having all the answers. Of not knowing._

_It ate at him, it eroded more and more of him every day. He needed this. He needed to make sense of his volatile past. This was very important._

_Peter was gone again._

_Sylar had sent the little brother away, the little brother he had always wished for._

_It had been later that day, Sylar seemingly never able to stray too far from that window. He had tried to sit in the chair again to clear his mind, but somehow he always found himself standing right where Peter had fallen once more. He tried leaving, but he didn't know where he was to go in the large Pinehearst building. Every time he moved, he found himself standing in front of that broken window, seeing Peter crash through it again and again in his mind's eye. He couldn't stop staring at it...couldn't stop thinking about what could've been._

_It was hours later and a cleaning crew was beginning to patch up the hole in the window and sweep up the surrounding shards. __It was as if it had never happened__. His feet felt as if they were forever cemented to this fated spot. If Sylar was being honest with himself...he missed Peter. He missed Peter being around; his personality always so intriguing to Sylar...his company not exactly unwanted...his optimism oddly infectious._

"_It's hard to believe that Peter survived that fall without his powers." Arthur pressed again, moving in behind him. He obviously was not fully satisfied with Sylar's original answer._

_Sylar's eyes remained focused on the window...he felt dead inside and talking about it with Arthur would not make him feel any better. "Yeah, I was just thinking that myself."_

_Arthur paused before saying, "Come. I have something to show you."_

_They walked down the Pinehearst corridors, Sylar keeping pace with his father's strides. Fathers were a bit scary...he had never had a father._

"_Where are you taking me?" Sylar pressed, uncertainly._

"_It's time I started acting like your father, Gabriel. That hunger you've go, it's not about killing, it's about power."_

_Sylar watched Arthur with large, curious brown eyes._

"_You can take all the abilities you want without killing." Arthur explained, dutifully. "I can teach you."_

_Sylar glanced down at the floor, desperate not to show Arthur the flood of emotions he was sure just entered them. __To take without killing. To be what he always wanted to be, the hero, the most special, the man who could take what he wanted and no longer suffer through moral regret._

"_How?" Sylar demanded, eagerly._

"_By accessing your empathy, the part of your heart I know is there." Arthur replied. "You've had this power all along."_

_Confusion swam through Sylar. __To take without killing. Impossible. His hunger would cry out at him for blood, for cutting, for slicing through skulls with surgical precision. Such thoughts proved he had no capacity for empathy, he was certain._

"_Empathy?" Sylar asked, in disbelief. "What makes you think I'm capable of that?"_

"_Because I know you're the one that saved Peter from that fall."_

_Sylar's eyes found the floor once more. He hadn't had a name for the emotions he had felt towards Peter before...that understanding of what Peter was feeling when he struggled with the hunger...knowing exactly what had gone through the young man's mind as tears flooded his eyes. Empathy. There was a small shining ray of hope now. _ _Sylar had never in his life understood what other people were feeling...he knew what __he __ was feeling, but how the hell was one to grapple with emotions that other's had but not yourself?_

_Empathy. That's what it had been._

_Sylar liked that._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Peter..." Gabriel moaned eagerly, pushing Peter's form beneath him, their erotic foreplay becoming much too stimulating. Hands were rushing along warm, pulsating flesh...lips were crushing into each other deeply...legs were wrapping around hips tightly...bodies were pushing and pulling against each other in a mad rush of discovery.

Peter's head roughly hit the pillow, his eyes wide with childlike innocence as an arm snaked up to wrap around Gabriel's neck.

"Just wait for a second." Peter murmured, his other hand shooting out to push up against Gabriel's descending warm lips. "I just wanna look at you."

Gabriel paused with his administrations, but he soon found that Peter's gaze was so intense that Gabriel felt himself blush furiously, his long lashes kissing his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shut.

"You're beautiful." Peter breathed out, and Gabriel felt the young man's chest rising and falling with increasingly heavy gasps.

"Thank you, Peter." Gabriel whispered, his eyes opening once more to drink in the sight of Peter naked and prostrate beneath him.

_Maybe Gabriel should just blurt out 'I love you' and see what would happen. It felt so right, Peter's body carnal and hot against his own wiry, lean form._

"Peter," Gabriel whispered, bringing his lips down to lightly caress Peter's collarbone. He felt Peter's hands begin to move fluidly up to grasp onto Gabriel's dark hair..._he pulled at it lightly, causing something to tighten and groan in Gabriel's stomach._

"Tell me." Peter urged, arching his chest up against Gabriel's. Gabriel's teeth had found Peter's ribs, and the young man was beginning to moan beautifully. "_Ah_...stay there."

Gabriel nipped and pulled at the skin found there, feeling Peter's ribs rise and fall with every heated gasp and snort. Gabriel felt his arousal pulsate with heat as he moved his hips forward to dig it into Peter's upper thigh. _The contact was beautifully intense, and warm pleasure was beginning to culminate within him._

"_Ah_!" Peter cried out, fisting at Gabriel's hair excitedly. "There."

He didn't need to say it twice, Gabriel loved that he had discovered this spot on Peter, and he was delighting in fully toying with it. Each bite was replaced by a small lap, and Peter was growing more and more excited as his own arousal was now straining like molten lava against Gabriel's already overheated stomach.

_This was when they could both forget about the realities of the world and just enjoy each other. There was no death, no secrets, no real world looming, no Angela. There was just Peter moaning salaciously beneath him, just the love that burned like a fever between them._

Gabriel lifted his lips up from Peter's ribs, a small smirk painting his features. "Oh, Peter." He murmured, bringing down a hand to brush lovingly across Peter's face. "What should I do with you?"

Peter gave a choked laugh, running a hand appreciatively through the thick, coarse hair that decorated the lean muscles of Gabriel's chest. "T-this was your idea."

Gabriel gave a slow nod; bringing his chin down so that it rested on Peter's stomach..._his skin was like fire and it burned every area of Gabriel's body_. He was content to take his time with this..._having Peter smile at him once more was such a relief_. "Oh, I have lots of ideas. I just haven't decided on which one I like best yet."

Peter propped himself up on his elbows, a small half-grin painting his lips. His eyes were lidded and lazy, making him appear so boyish at the moment.

Gabriel watched Peter with deep eyes; he knew they were very dark and intense right then. He took in a deep breath..._he didn't want to sound needy, but he hadn't heard the words in what felt like such a long time. And he needed to hear them again. Everything had hurt yesterday and everything had hurt today. He needed to hear those three little words._

"Peter," He whispered, turning his head slightly down to press burning kisses against the quivering skin of Peter's stomach...his tongue darting out to lightly caress the patch of skin that held a small trail of hair directly beneath Peter's navel. Peter was trembling now, his fingers subconsciously kneading the sheets beneath him as Gabriel's lips teased skin so near his sensitive area. Gabriel, however, pressed on, "Peter, say you love me."

Peter released a soft grunt, his head dipping back into the pillows. His entire form rose and fell beautifully from Gabriel's viewpoint, his chin snuggly fitted on the young man's lower stomach.

"Kiss me..." Peter begged, voicing his wishes in a rough, low tone. "_Please_."

Gabriel dragged his mouth down Peter's arching form before placing firm lips to the tip of Peter's throbbing arousal, the flesh there burning to the touch. Gabriel released a shaky sigh, pulling back slightly.

"Mmm." Peter whimpered, and it was clear he wished for more than what Gabriel had provided him.

"Say you love me, Peter." Gabriel hissed, and he felt unwelcome tears threatening to enter his heavily blinking eyes. "Don't make me beg."

Gabriel felt Peter sit up, warm, calm hands wrapping around either side of Gabriel's head. Peter was staring down at him with an ardent expression.

"You don'thave to beg." Peter promised, but there was a sadness painting his softened, hazy gaze. "I love..."

But at that moment Peter's cell phone began to buzz nosily on the bedside table. Peter gave Gabriel an apologetic glance as he looked over to see who was calling.

A frown quirked Peter's lips. "I'll call back."

"No, who is it?" Gabriel pressed, a dark curiosity suddenly filling him. _It was Angela, he knew it. She was everywhere, it seemed, haunting them whenever they let themselves go and loved unworriedly for the briefest of moments._

_He hated her for that._

"Nobody." Peter shrugged, but Gabriel had already moved up Peter's form to look down at the buzzing, vibrating phone himself.

But to his surprise, the name that was flashing in blue lights was that of _Claire_. Gabriel suddenly felt the room get very cold, a light shiver rushing down his spine.

"Well," Gabriel swallowed, his mouth suddenly heavy and dry. "Don't ignore it for my sake. Answer it."

Peter gave Gabriel a curious, sidelong look before picking up the cell in his hands. "This will only be a minute." He promised, flipping it open and placing it to his ear.

_Gabriel never hated Claire. Indeed, since the Texas homecoming he only wished for the pretty, little cheerleader to be a permanent part of his life. He thought that she was his niece once, and had wished that she could love him like family at the time. He had searched her out for answers, had learned from her that he needed to purge himself of his dependence on powers if he ever wished to feel alive again. Gabriel could see a little bit of Peter in Claire. She was spunky just like him and she was heroic and brave too. And she had beautiful eyes; they shone like emeralds beneath waves of golden hair._

_Gabriel had done many horrible things to Claire. Of all the people he hurt, besides Peter of course, it was her forgiveness that he sought the most. But Peter never allowed him to talk to Claire. Peter was highly defensive of his young niece and Gabriel never stopped being the man who planned a violent assault upon her or the man that tore her family apart._

"Yeah, you can stay here for the weekend. When is your plane comin' in? Friday night?" Peter's words shook Gabriel from his thoughts, violently tearing through his mind. _Claire was staying the weekend at Peter's? Was she coming in to honor Nathan's birthday as well? Was Gabriel going to be asked to leave or not? Why hadn't Peter mentioned this before?_

Gabriel didn't want to leave Peter. Not for Claire or anyone else. _Gabriel met Peter the exact same day Claire did, after all, she didn't know him any better or for any longer_.

A resurgence of anger stabbed at Gabriel's heart. He hoped to God that Peter wasn't going to ask him to leave the apartment for the weekend for Claire's sake. Who did Peter love, after all? Who was naked in Peter's bed right now, willing to give up of his entire body and soul for Peter's devotion and pleasure? And he was to be sent away like some criminal; unable to even try and reach out for Claire's forgiveness?

_No one loved Peter more than Gabriel_. Whether to prove this or just to act on some wicked impulse, Gabriel dipped his lips down once more and wrapped his mouth tightly around Peter's still aching arousal. He gave a small suckle, his eyes darting up to watch Peter's face.

Peter opened his mouth to speak to Claire, but instead his eyes went wide with shock. He quickly jammed his fist into his mouth and bit down hard, effectively drowning out his shuddering moan.

Gabriel released Peter, but that didn't stop the rough smack that Peter gave to the top of Gabriel's head. It didn't hurt, but it was a clear warning. _Gabriel didn't care though. There was something erotically wonderful about what had just happened. Peter couldn't just ignore him; send him away without even warning him beforehand._

"Yeah, okay." Peter agreed, but his voice was a bit choked and raspy now. "I'll call you later this week. Yup, take care."

Peter snapped the phone shut and placed it down on the nightstand. "Hey, that's my niece, man, what do you think you're..."

"When were you going to tell me Claire was staying here for the weekend?" Gabriel interrupted, his eyes burning into Peter's with angry force.

"I didn't know that was the plan until she talked to me just now." Peter explained, his tone even but a bit short. "She's comin' up for Nathan's birthday and she doesn't feel comfortable stayin' with my mom. This is the only place."

"Yeah, and what am I supposed to do? Conveniently disappear for the weekend?" Gabriel spat, drawing himself away from the warmth of Peter's body.

"You got a better plan?" Peter demanded, holding out his hand sarcastically. "It's for one weekend. My family's goin' through a lot this Saturday; I thought you might get that."

"I get it, Peter, I know what happened!" Gabriel snapped, but the words had come out horribly wrong..._he meant to say that he knew how much Peter hurt over it, how horribly it plagued the entire surviving remnants of the Petrelli family. But instead he just said he knew what happened. He knew exactly how Nathan had died._

Peter's face hardened, a hand moving up to push back the messy, dark hair that had fallen into his harsh eyes. He was silent as if not trusting himself to speak yet, before finally saying, "I know I didn't tell you that this was a possibility sooner. But I'm really sick of this."

"Let me talk to Claire." Gabriel pushed, ignoring both the dangerous look in Peter's eyes as well as his last forbidding words. "Let me _beg _her forgiveness...I'm willing to listen to her..."

"Her father is _dead_!" Peter snapped, his jaw grinding together furiously. "You think she really wants to talk to you about that?"

Gabriel closed his mouth, his eyes shining with an overwhelming sense of hurt. _This anger...Gabriel hadn't seen this in Peter in a long time. He didn't like seeing it now...he had hoped that it was gone forever._

"Peter, please." He began again, softer this time. "If I could just say a few words to her...if I could just have two minutes of her time..."

"Gabriel, no." Peter hung his head, pressing his forehead up against his palm. "Claire doesn't wanna talk to you, okay? Now, please, just forget this...I don't wanna argue about this anymore. Aren't you tired of arguing too?"

Gabriel fell silent, but his heart was still slamming up against his chest. _If Claire could just hear him out, maybe Peter would see that he wasn't the only one who had the capability of forgiving Gabriel. Once Claire saw what a good person Gabriel was now...how happy he was making her hero, Peter...well, couldn't that change everything?_

_It was a brave, new world, after all._

"Peter..." Gabriel pleaded, but Peter simply silenced him by firmly pressing his fingers up against Gabriel's soft, full lips.

"Shhh." Peter murmured, and his eyes shone with such weary sadness that Gabriel couldn't help but comply, his words dying before they even reached his lips. "Look, we can argue about this in circles forever or we can just make love. Your choice."

Gabriel felt strangely dead inside, his eyes drinking in the sight of Peter kneeling before him on the bed. _Peter's eyes were like fire, burning him with every move they made. And while Gabriel was obsessed with Peter's lips, they also spoke words that Gabriel did not want to hear._

Without a sound, Gabriel pressed his mouth roughly back into Peter's, both men clinging to the other as a rush of heated emotions coursed through both their bodies. Peter was still upset by Gabriel's words..._his eyes still slipping open to gaze upon Gabriel...in this lighting they were hot and bright and angry..._and Gabriel was still upset by Peter's words..._Peter was controlling who was allowed to hear his attritions, who was to grant him forgiveness..._and he didn't want to hear Peter speak about it anymore..._didn't want to gaze upon Peter's full, trembling lips._

Releasing a frustrated grunt, Gabriel pushed at Peter's shoulders until the young man was facing away from him. He guided Peter down so that he was resting on his hands and knees, his sturdy, lean back on perfect display.

_He would make love to Peter. He would make Peter forget all about everyone else in the world...he would make sure that Peter would never even think to ask him to run away and hide this weekend._

He lowered himself down so that he was pressed tightly up against Peter's beautiful heaving form, the coolness of the sheets beneath Gabriel's knees were wonderfully contrasting the heat that radiated off of Peter.

_He loved Peter so much...why did Peter have to make him hurt so badly?_

He slowly yet eagerly pushed himself inch by inch into Peter's body; his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he let out a low, uncontrolled growl..._the tension had been mounting within him more than he had originally anticipated, coiling and twisting tightly around his core. _He held one hand firmly wrapped around Peter's quivering stomach; keeping the young man still as he continued to fill him.

It always felt so amazing to be this close to Peter, to be held within him. He always felt very attune to Peter at times like this as well, listening for his pleasured sounds, ready to readjust should the latter need him to.

But he hadn't expected to hear the sharp cry of pain that emanated from Peter's stiffening form. Peter dipped his head lower, fisting the sheets beneath him as he gritted his teeth together.

"D-did I hurt you?" Gabriel demanded, immediately stopping his movements.

Peter let out a loud snort. "I'm...I'm not ready."

Gabriel gave a quick nod, as he began to retreat himself from Peter's tense body. _The coldness that hit his arousal was jarring. It made his stomach churn painfully. _Gabriel sat back on the bed, watching Peter closely as the young man turned back around to face him.

"Gabriel...I'm sorry." Peter murmured, pressing his thumb to his bottom lip.

"You need to warm up some more?" Gabriel questioned, brushing his own messy hair back into place. _He never wanted to hurt Peter again_. He watched the young man closely for emotional cues..._he developed enough empathy for Peter; after all, Peter was the first person in the world that Gabriel was able to share empathy with._

Peter gave a small sigh, dropping his head down to his chest. Gabriel felt his lungs restrict uncomfortably. "Hey...what is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm just not..." Peter gestured wildly around him. "I'm...too tense right now. I can't relax...I don't think I can do this."

Gabriel blinked back his disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing over his dark eyes. "I...I can help you to relax, Peter..."

Peter shook his head quickly. "No, no. I'm too tense and everything just feels..._really_ overwhelming right now. My brother, this whole damn situation, the thing with you..." Peter pressed his wrist up against his lips as he fell silent.

Gabriel moved closer towards Peter, uncertainly reaching a large hand out to place upon the younger man's shoulder. "Peter...if you want to be inside me instead..."

Peter gave a small nod, "Or maybe I can just do something for you..."

Gabriel shook his head, noting Peter's sudden distance. "What?"

_Peter suddenly looked very eager to just be done with the whole thing. He didn't want to be inside of Gabriel, he just wanted to grant Gabriel some sort of sexual relief before leaving the bedroom altogether._

Gabriel suddenly felt very vulnerable, his eyes narrowing at the insinuation. "Well, if it's going to be a chore for you, we don't have to do anything at all."

The young man gave a frustrated sigh, his face looking quite defeated. "I didn't mean it like that, Gabriel; my mind isn't here right now. But I know you need this, so let me just..." His tone started calm, but moved angrier and louder once Gabriel moved in to interrupt him.

"Forget it." Gabriel spat, grabbing at the covers and moving them up around his naked form. _He didn't want Peter to give him some quick completion just to 'get it over with'. That wasn't why he wanted to be with Peter in the first place; he hadn't been aroused and needed a release, he wanted to reconnect with his lover on the most intimate of levels._

"Damn it, Gabriel!" Peter snapped, and Gabriel realized that Peter was still very angry with him about yesterday, about what just transpired a few minutes ago..._and there is a sickening feeling that accompanies trying to be intimate with a person that has hurt you, Gabriel imagined_.

Peter pushed on, his face tense with stress. He moved closer towards the taller man on the bed. "Do you _ever_ stop and think about maybe how I'm feelin'? I don't want to just stop, but I don't think that I can do this right now. But I still want to be there for _you_."

"That isn't why I wanted to be with you in the first place." Gabriel retorted, coldly. "I wanted to help _you _feel better; I didn't just want some quickie for myself."

"I know, I know." Peter groaned, placing his face into his hands. "But look, this isn't gonna make me feel better right now. Everything is such a mess and..."

"It doesn't have to be." Gabriel whispered, his heart aching painfully in his chest. He needed to get through to Peter; the young man needed to understand. "If you would stop thinking that you need to control the situation and just let me talk to Claire..."

"_Stop it_." Peter hissed, his hands pressing tightly against his face.

"She'll forgive me!" Gabriel shouted, and he could feel his heartbeat resounding in his eardrums. _She'd forgive him, he knew it. Claire was so much like Peter; she would see Gabriel's goodness just like Peter had come to. _"She'll forgive me, I know she will, and then we don't have to hide this anymore..."

"I don't want her to have to go through that!" Peter roared, his face coming back up to stare at Gabriel with raging intensity. His eyes were piercing, dangerous. "I wanna protect her..."

"FROM WHAT?" And the words came out louder and more livid than Gabriel ever expected them too. He saw Peter flinch in shock, but nonetheless, he pressed on. "From _me_? You're protecting Claire from me, aren't you? _Aren't you_?"

"Look, I know what it's like to listen to you..." Peter clenched his mouth shut, but Gabriel leaned forward to grab onto the young man's wrists tightly.

"Listen to me what?" Gabriel demanded, giving Peter's wrists a small shake. "_What_?"

"To listen to you say you're sorry for something that can't be forgiven!" Peter yelled back, and Gabriel felt the young man's wrists slip out of his trembling hands in shock.

_Something that can't be forgiven._

_But Gabriel was forgiven...Peter hadn't said the words, but that didn't change how he felt. It was just like Gabriel not saying 'I love you'...wasn't it?_

"You just don't get it! You just can't say you're sorry to her! It took me what felt like five years to come to peace with what happened between us. And I can't..." Peter shook his head pitifully. "I _can't_ put her through what I went through. What I _felt_."

Gabriel stumbled backwards as if he had been slapped. Yes, he knew it had been a long and painful road for the two men. But that hadn't meant it was a road that should never be traveled again. It had hurt, but it had been a good hurt. It was through the pain that Gabriel and Peter had both resurfaced renewed and full of a life force that had previously been ebbing.

Well, at least Peter had said it. It was better than wondering all the time; it was better than being stupid and naïve and imagining that everything with Peter was warm and happy now.

"How can you say that you love me, Peter?" Gabriel wondered aloud, his words trembling as they escaped his tightening throat. "When you're so ashamed of all of this. If Claire knew about _us_...if she knew we were together..."

Peter stared at Gabriel silently, his eyes as cold as ice. Gabriel knew that Peter was trying to bury his emotions because they had been slowly threatening to consume him since their argument yesterday. Peter had no emotional release; Gabriel seemed only to fan the fires rather than put them out. It might've been some of the reason the young man always seemed so lost.

"I'm not ashamed of loving you." Peter began, slowly; his tone low and choked. "But you're right. I don't want her to know about us."

"Or your mother to know. Or anyone else." Gabriel pulled the covers up further, the room now feeling unbearably cold. "This isn't right. Angela's not stupid and neither is Claire. You think they don't wonder about us already? You think Angela thinks you're _really _working all those hours...even though she knows you're also keeping an eye on me? They're wondering about us already, Peter, and you're just so far in denial about everything you're feeling that..."

"Shut up." Peter hissed, his eyes squeezing shut.

"No!" Gabriel shouted, grabbing Peter roughly by the wrist once more and jerking him forward. "Because you need to understand something, Peter. The day will come when you need to make a very difficult choice."

"I don't have to choose between anyone. You can't take my mother away from me _too_!" Peter cried out, and there was a way in which he placed emphasis on the final word that sucked all the air out of the room.

_You can't take my mother away from me too._

_Gabriel took Nathan away. And there was no fixing that ever, no making that right. No amount of visiting a grave on a Sunday afternoon could fill the hole that had been created._

_It was as if Peter had taken a pair of scissors and jammed them straight into his heart._

"Oh, Peter..." Gabriel breathed out, his dark eyes filling to the brim with tears. "Am I forgiven or not? Tell me." Several tears dribbled down his cheeks. "Tell me, I need to hear you say the words..."

_There was forgiveness...and then there was acceptance. Gabriel never received either throughout his lifetime...but with Peter he thought he had amazingly found the former. The Holy Grail he never knew was his to have._

"Do you love me?" Peter shot back, and Gabriel watched him in shock. _So Peter did care that Gabriel hadn't said the words all along...he just never said anything._

Had they always just been two men living in constant misunderstanding?

"Yes." Gabriel murmured, but he knew it wasn't the same as actually saying the words. He couldn't, not right now, not when Peter was looking at him with such intensity raging in those sharp eyes. "Yes, I do...of course, I do."

Peter turned his head away, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

"Now tell me." Gabriel hissed, desperation cracking in his voice. "Am I forgiven?"

The seconds ticked by and Peter remained silent. Gabriel's chest was constricting tighter and tighter, and the tears were now freely streaming down his cheeks in agony.

"_Peter_..." He moaned, squeezing his fingers around Peter's wrist until they burned white.

"I think I need to leave." Peter whispered, his tone so flat and unemotional that it frightened the taller man. "I need to clear my head."

"No." Gabriel quickly shook his head. "You can't leave me."

"_Gabriel_." Peter shut his eyes again, and this time small tears trickled down his cheeks as well. "I need some time away."

Gabriel watched, mouth agape in disbelief, as Peter pushed himself off of the bed and began to silently dress himself.

"Peter, _please_." Gabriel moaned, as Peter finished pulling his shirt up over his head. "Please don't leave me, where will you go?"

But Peter simply ignored him, instead grabbing his keys off of the dresser and heading towards the bedroom door.

Gabriel jumped to his feet and took long strides towards Peter, reaching out to grab onto him again. He made rough contact with Peter's arm, and although the young man tried to jerk away, Gabriel was resolute in his grip.

_Peter was not to leave. He was not to ignore Gabriel_.

"You aren't leaving." Gabriel seethed, pulling at Peter's arm so that the latter was pulled tightly up against the former's towering body. _He could still use his height as an advantage, grateful that he was blessed with such a long form_.

"Gabriel," Peter gave him a searing gaze. "Let go of my arm."

"NO!" Gabriel shouted, and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. _Everyone always left him. He could never hold onto anything long enough, it always ended up slipping through his fingers. All his precious things lay to waste. _"No, I'm not!"

Peter used his free arm to grab onto Gabriel's wrist, the young man's eyes squeezing shut as Gabriel felt a power involuntarily course through his veins and fill Peter up with its light.

"That's not fair." Gabriel raged, his fingers shaking from their tight grip on Peter's arm. "Are you gonna use powers against me?"

_Did Peter really wish to fight with abilities now?_

"I need to get some fresh air." Peter hissed, trying to keep his tone low and controlled. "I don't wanna be around you when I'm feelin' like this."

_No, no, Peter could never leave him again. Peter belonged to Gabriel; he was never allowed to leave Gabriel alone._

Gabriel used his free hand to grab Peter by the back of the head and forced his lips roughly down upon Peter's. _It was insane, and he felt crazy doing it. But he could only listen to the voice that was screaming inside of him: Love me, love me, love me, __love me__._

Peter pushed him away with all his might, stumbling backwards across the room as he did so. The two men watched each other in stunned silence; both breathing hard and heavy.

Peter wiped his hand across his mouth. Tears were burning in his bright eyes, making them hazed over with glassiness. Giving a loud snort, he turned on his heels and headed towards the door purposefully.

And everything that had been slowly building up inside of Gabriel..._since first seeing Peter's young, innocent face at the Texas homecoming, for all Gabriel knew_...everything suddenly found its way to the surface. The air was hot and muggy even though all the while Gabriel felt cold and frozen to the spot.

_He could never forget Peter splayed against the wall in Mohinder's apartment. His beautiful, lean, sturdy body was trembling with innocent fear. His sharp hazel eyes were defiant and brave. His lips would part to give the most precious gasps. Gabriel always knew he should've kissed Peter on the spot rather than try and take his power. For Peter's real powers were far greater than any evolutionary trait._

_And he never should've thrown Peter out the window at Pinehearst. He should've held Peter in place and kissed him soundly...knowing they couldn't have possibly been brothers, knowing that Peter wasn't anything more to him than a man he needed to kiss._

His arm outstretched before him...to reach out to Peter only, to try and touch him before he disappeared and slipped away...but his power moved out of him along with all of his raging tears and emotions. Before he understood anything that was happening, Peter slammed face-first into the wall in the hallway. He cried out, and Gabriel was shocked to see the trickle of blood that seemed to be running down the wall.

"Oh, god." Gabriel gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. His tears were streaming down his face, his breaths now leaving him in choked sobs. "Peter."

_Something had just broken. Something had just fallen and shattered on the floor._

Gabriel tried to reach out and touch Peter, but it seemed as if all of his senses except for sight had been cut off from him.

Peter reached up and grabbed Gabriel by the shoulders and slammed him with violent force up against the wall. The area around Peter's eye looked as if it would bruise and swell, his nose was trickling blood and his lips had split open. Gabriel wondered why he wasn't healing, but it soon registered that Peter had just taken a new power..._he would continue to hurt both on the outside and inside._

Peter was shouting but Gabriel could hear nothing he was saying. He was pushing Gabriel repeatedly up against the wall with every word, but it was all lost on the latter...there was no pain, no sound; nothing was registering but the ferocious rage that was flashing across the young man's face. Spit was flying from his lips as they contorted to the side in his fury.

_Gabriel remembered a time he had been running throughout the house as a child, lost in his own imaginary world of being the powerful superhero that needed to defeat the fearsome villain. He had accidently run into his mother's snow globe display shelf and one of the snow globes...the one from Florida...had fallen to the ground and shattered on the floor. He had tried to cover it up, but of course his mother had noticed it missing at once. She had sobbed and shook inconsolably, locked in her room for hours._

_Gabriel had never forgotten how she had cried over that snow globe. He had tried to glue the pieces back together, but it hadn't been the same. It would never be the same again. Once something breaks, gluing it together only makes the fact that it was cracked and broken in the first place all the more painfully and glaringly obvious._

Peter had tears freely falling from his eyes now as his clenched hands slowly released Gabriel from their trembling grasp. The blood that seeped from his split lip was now dribbling down his chin; staining his teeth as well as the white shirt he had on.

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but even his words were muted to his own ears. They might've just been shouting nonsense at each other, each man trying to drown out the other's voice with their own insistent words, slapping their hands together and gesturing around wildly about as if making some important point.

_The day Gabriel had killed Nathan he had broken it. He had broken whatever he and Peter could've had together. And then he had just haphazardly poured glue over the whole thing; thinking being intimate with Peter equaled them being healed, thinking that pretending you couldn't see the cracks somehow made them less visible when presented to the person you had hurt._

Both men were pushing and pulling at each other, jabbing fingers in each other's faces, no doubt telling the other everything that was wrong with them. Peter was pushing Gabriel in the chest over and over again, shouting through his tears, lips trembling and twisting as Gabriel was shouting back, his hand roughly pushing up against Peter's shoulder to back him up.

Peter jabbed his finger in the middle of Gabriel's chest and for the first time since the fight started, his words became audible once more. "Don't follow me!"

And in that instant his image flickered and disappeared..._he had taken Gabriel's power to bend light shards around him, rendering him nearly invisible_...Peter had originally taken the power to escape, not to fight and Gabriel didn't know how that should make him feel inside.

Gabriel pressed both hands up against his mouth as he slowly slid down against the wall until he was seated on the floor. His cheeks were wet from his continuous tears, his heart was pounding against his ribcage, and his chest was heaving as he made high pitched, shrill gasps.

_Oh, he had broken it. He had broken it. Oh, god._

Gabriel felt his stomach heave and he started retching, pushing himself over onto his side as he vomited all over the floor. He lay, pressed up against the wall and trembling, still helpless and naked as he shakily wiped his wrist across his mouth.

He made Peter go away again when he really only wanted the young man to stay forever. Was his life to always be a series of decisions he would later come to regret? Hadn't he _changed_..._hadn't it been a brave new world with Peter by his side?_

Gabriel had thought that one part of being in a relationship was the act of hurting each other..._proving you cared enough to feel the pain to begin with_...but now he found he had never really understood what a relationship even was. He was certain he still didn't.

All he could see every time he shut his eyes was beautiful Peter's face contorted in rage for him. The words he said hadn't mattered at all, nothing could be conveyed more clearly than the look that had been shining in those bright, defiant eyes.

_Gabriel had lazily pieced them together without care, and now the cracks had gotten too large once more, the pieces lay shattered._

His heart was exploding in his chest. Whoever called it _heartbreak_ was quite correct in naming it, it was literally the feeling of one's heart being torn to shreds. It was physically _painful_ and it burned through his whole body without ceasing. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep at bay all the horrible things that had just taken place in the room.

_Peter was smiling at him with that lazy, boyish, half-grin. His eyes were hooded playfully, as he pressed teasing lips to Gabriel's. They were lying in a field; the long grass coming up to almost shroud Peter's face; the warm sun glinting off of his skin. Gabriel just wanted to devour him, to wrap Peter safely and securely in his arms and feel every inch of the young man's body pressed into his own. But he couldn't stop staring; Peter's eyes were holding him under a trance, the former's sensual nature undeniably hypnotic. _

He wrapped his arms around his knees and sank his forehead down against them. "I love you." Gabriel whispered, quite acutely to no one.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_Our Father who art in heaven..._

_Sylar hugged his long body against the shadows of the wall. He searched the room, his chocolate gaze filled with a dark purpose, as he laid in silent wait._

_Inside, he was dead. Something that had been splintering within him since childhood had finally snapped. Here he had foolishly thought himself capable of something so grand as empathy, when in reality he couldn't even feel his own emotions coursing through him any longer. He was cut off from all of his senses; all that he recognized now was a desperate need to hurt others...until they were dead and broken inside too._

_Angela was not his mother. Arthur was not his father. He had learned this while on assignment from Arthur...the man had needed him to find Claire. She held a catalyst that would perfect a formula that was to synthetically induce abilities in those who had none. Sylar had gone to Claire's house, along with a former agent of the Company, Elle Bishop._

_Sylar had absorbed Elle's power without killing her, and he had wrongly imagined that this revelation would serve to revolutionize his life. A hunger could now be sated...he could enjoy the pleasure the powers gave him with none of the damning blood left over._

_Instead, when Sylar had arrived at the Bennett household for Claire, Noah had told him the truth about his heritage. Angela and Arthur had both lied to him; had both set out to manipulate him. He was a weapon to be wielded between a warring family and nothing more to either of them. __Peter had been right all along...he had always known he couldn't have possibly been Sylar's family._

_Elle had known this too and Sylar had killed her for it...__Sylar was so tired of lies...so tired of pretending he could feel things such as hope...redemption...love..._

_And he had promised himself that the Petrellis were next. Angela and Arthur would pay for their arrogance, their inhumanity...and the bloodshed would start with the man claiming to be his father. For while Angela had been good at pretending to love and care for Sylar...Arthur was just a cruel bastard and Sylar knew disposing of him would be most gratifying._

_Sylar's lifted his head; the door to the office was creaking open slowly. He felt his pulse quicken as he peered around the corner. He so desired to see Arthur's fear...to watch him beg for mercy...for his face to reflect his emotional turmoil...for Sylar's was numb and he craved an outlet._

_Hallowed be thy name..._

_However, it wasn't Arthur who had entered the room. __Of course it wasn't__. Of course it was Peter, who else would it be? Peter always followed Sylar...__or Sylar always followed Peter, but who was really keeping track anymore__...and so certainly this time would be no different._

_It was the first time that Sylar gazed upon Peter's face with the realization that the young man was no longer his little brother. __They weren't family at all, but Peter had always known that__. Sylar felt a small pang at the lost connection between them. But something inside Sylar was frozen...__he was cut but refused to bleed__...and he felt nothing more towards Peter beyond the smallest of acknowledgements that something they had once shared was now severed._

_Peter had been followed by a tall, dark-skinned man...Sylar faintly recalled hearing him referred to as The Haitian._ _He was speaking in a hushed whisper to Peter, who simply nodded slowly in response. Sylar quirked his head to the side...Peter was nervous, but he was holding up quite bravely. As always._

_But why was he here? To stop his father from destroying the world? Of course, what else would Peter be doing? Saving the world...always saving the world._

_The door opened once more and this time Sylar's target entered...Arthur Petrelli was here. Peter spun around, his eyes flashing in the man's direction._

"_Peter! Glad you're here, Nathan and I have just been..." Arthur trailed off as quite suddenly, Peter had raised a gun in both hands. The young man gripped at it tightly, as if to be quite certain his aim was steady and firm._

_Sylar watched, his eyes narrowing slightly. __Peter was here to kill his father__. Sylar had missed that...Peter was usually quite predictable. Sylar had long ago come to understand Peter's nature what with all the time they had spent in each other's lives. But Sylar had not imagined that Peter had come here now with the same goal in mind: to murder Arthur in cold blood._

_Thy kingdom come..._

_Peter was very anxiously determined, his eyes hardening as he kept the gun pointed straight at his father's forehead. But Arthur did not appear frightened in the least; instead he merely gazed upon his youngest with a very condescending look._

"_Don't be ridiculous." Arthur chided, moving his hand to telekinetically unarm Peter. Arthur hesitated; his eyes widening slightly...the gun remained firmly placed in Peter's unwavering hands._

_Of course. __ Sylar gave a small nod. __It was the reason Peter brought The Haitian...The Haitian could block a person's abilities. Arthur had underestimated his son._

_There was a passionate anger burning in Peter's eyes now, a heated disgust for the patronizing tone his father's voice had taken with him. The Haitian now moved out from the shadows, making his presence known to Arthur as well._

_An understanding seemed to reach Arthur's gaze. He folded his hands together and took a deep breath, "So..." He murmured, trying to keep his tone even. "You're here to kill me."_

"_I'm here to stop you." Peter clarified, his eyes filled with both determination and anger.  
"Creating abilities like this...giving them out...you'll destroy the world."_

"_In your opinion." Arthur spat, clearly talking down to the young man before him._

_Sylar squinted his eyes as he cocked his head further to the side. Peter's anger...Arthur's tone...it all spoke of a turbulent, unhappy past between the two men. Sylar imagined he knew why...__Arthur was a cruel man. And while Sylar had respected that for a time, he had quickly come to realize that cruelty did not always equal strength. Sylar had never been heartless for the sake of it, and he had come to loathe Arthur for his manipulations, his callous calculations, his vicious lies. When barred by the truth, he was insignificant and he deserved an unremarkable end to what he had no doubt hoped would be a life of meaning._

"_I've seen it." Peter replied, darkly. He watched his father's every movement with bright, blazing eyes. "This ends now."_

_Innocent Peter...murdering his own father. Sylar had thought he knew Peter so well...but surprise, surprise...the world grows darker each day._

"_I don't think you have the nerve to kill me, Peter." And Arthur was openly mocking his son, taking a purposeful step forward as if to intimidate Peter into lowering his weapon._

_But as soon as the words left Arthur's mouth, Peter's defiance only intensified as he pulled the hammer back on the gun and matched his father by taking a commanding step forward. His eyes widened as his lips sucked in a deep breath and shot a look that unmistakably read...__Try me._

_Sylar raised an eyebrow in thought. __Arthur didn't know Peter anymore. Sylar knew Peter._

_True, Arthur had known Peter as a young boy without a distinct purpose. But Sylar had known Peter the man...the man who was so steadfast in his beliefs and need to save others that he was willing to sacrifice a piece of his soul just now to accomplish that. _

_All those times Arthur had spoken of Peter's weakness...__he had been wrong. Sylar had known it at the time; had sensed it at the time.__ Peter had never shown anything less than remarkable bravery and a gusty defiance that demanded respect. If Arthur wasn't going to give that to Peter, then it was at his own peril. Sylar was slightly pleased that he knew this fact better than Peter's own father...__his own family__...seemed to._

_Thy will be done..._

_The Haitian began to falter under Arthur's impressive mental strength. "He's too strong." He grimaced, his face damp with concentration. "I cannot hold his powers back."_

_But Peter did not move. Peter did not blink. Peter remained stoic in his stance._

"_Listen to me, son, there is another way." Arthur began and he seemed a little surprised that Peter hadn't dropped the gun already. "The formula is ready. Nathan is here. I can give you your abilities back. We can start over."_

"_No." Peter growled, but Sylar knew Peter...__no matter what Peter said to the contrary__. A part of Peter couldn't forget that this was his own flesh and blood...__the man who had once held Peter as an infant, the man who had given Peter his surname__._

_The Haitian took in a sharp breath, clearly beginning to falter. "Peter!" He cried out in desperation, urging Peter to end this._

"_WAIT!" Peter shouted,_ _taking a hand and raising it in The Haitian's direction. Gentle Peter...what if saving the world meant losing a part of who you were? Should you do it? Sylar had once thought so...but sometimes losing a part of who you are doesn't save the world at all. Sometimes it just leaves you numb and unfeeling...sometimes you wake up one morning and look in the mirror and realize nothing about the face you see looking back is familiar._

_On Earth as it is in Heaven..._

"_SHOOT NOW!" The Haitian demanded, and his powers were nearly overthrown by the mass assortment that Arthur wielded. To hesitate now would be fatal for both he and Peter...Arthur was without mercy._

"_That's your problem, son." Arthur snapped, a look of disgust painted on his face. Peter needed to pull the trigger, nothing could be simpler. Arthur would pull the trigger, Angela would...__probably Nathan would, Sylar assumed__...but Peter was too weak, too sensitive. An embarrassment now just as he had been his entire life. "Too much thought, not enough action."_

_Peter wasn't weak. _

_Peter was a good soul._

_Damned, corrupt creatures like Arthur could never understand that. Neither could Sylar. But he understood one thing. Peter would pull the trigger. There was a look in Peter's eyes...__a look Sylar had seen so many times before__...and it was trembling with unchecked rage. Peter was perhaps, in reality, the strongest man in this room and he'd shoot them all if it meant saving humanity. He'd even take the bullet himself._

_Arthur was a fool._

_Peter would shoot. Gentle Peter..._

_And at that moment, so many things happened in succession. The Haitian had fallen under the immense strain, Arthur had shouted, "How could you be my son...?" with tremendous disappointment and_ _Peter...gentle Peter...good-hearted Peter...squeezed the trigger._

_He hadn't done so to save humanity though. He had pulled the trigger because he hated Arthur. He might have told himself he had never __hated __his father...__because that's what good souls told themselves__...but he had. He hated the cold looks his father always gave him. He hated hearing he was weak...that he was too sensitive...too emotional. He hated that his father had never supported him in anything he chose to do. He hated Arthur __because__ the man had made Peter hate his own father. He hated Arthur because it had been much too easy to kill him just now. He hated Arthur because Peter hadn't killed him to save the world. He had killed Arthur to silence the man once and for all...__to finally silence the doubt...maybe even the self-doubt._

_Arthur flung his hand out to cut Peter across the cheek and the young man turned his head in pain; blood flying from the wound._

_Sylar stepped forward, stopping the bullet moments before it blew through Arthur's forehead. His heart was pounding in his chest...__but still, he felt nothing._

_Peter tenderly touched his bloodied cheek as he gazed up in surprise. Sylar walked into everyone's view, his arm outstretched to precisely control the bullet's rotation. It was still moving towards Arthur's head, but now it was circling towards him at an agonizingly deliberate pace._

_Sylar didn't want Arthur to die just yet. He wanted Arthur to see his own death...to see it looking him straight in the eye as a very important question loomed._

_Peter instinctively turned the gun on Sylar, but this action was quickly canceled by a small flick of Sylar's wrist...both watched as the gun clattered to the floor between them. Peter lowered his hand to his side, content not to act as both moved their gaze towards the patriarch of the Petrelli family. _

"_Hello, Arthur." Sylar whispered, slowly. He knew that his eyes were wild with intensity, but he didn't care. __All he cared about was the fact that this pathetic man would soon lay dead and bleeding...but not before being exposed in his lies._

_Arthur was nervous; he was wise to give Sylar the respect he hadn't given his youngest son. "Gabriel...?" He murmured in slight surprise. "You're here."_

"_I am." Sylar said, making sure to punctuate each and every word he spoke. __He knew a secret...and right now it was fun to keep to himself...but soon enough everyone else in the room could enjoy it as well. __"No place I'd rather be than with family."_

_Peter glanced over at Sylar with a sense of connection...__two brothers enraged at their evil father, no doubt._

_Give us this day our daily bread..._

_Peter wouldn't feel connected to him very long...Sylar was about to sever the bonds of brotherhood. Sylar felt an overwhelming sense of bitterness percolate in his mouth at that thought, but he couldn't dwell on it for long._

_Secrets are more fun when shared, after all._

"_Are you really my family?" Sylar inquired, fake innocence dripping off of his every word. __Arthur would lie, because that's what monsters did when caught and cornered. But that was okay, because Sylar had anticipated that...and he had a surprise in store._

_Arthur hesitated, as if wondering what the answer to Sylar's question __should __be. It was surprising that this man was Peter's father either...__Peter always answered questions with embarrassing honesty...who had he possibly learned that from? After all, the whole Petrelli clan was a pack of habitual liars besides him._

"_Of course..." Arthur finally settled on saying, cautiously. "I'm your father."_

_Liar, liar__. Sylar's new ability told him with a slight tingle. Sylar allowed his fake innocence to drop; the killer's hardened face was now in its place. "No you're not." He replied, and couldn't help but watch Peter's surprised look out of the corner of his eyes._

_Yes, Peter, mommy was lying to you too. I'm not your brother. We aren't family. You're just a messed up little bastard who trusts too much. And that's all we ever had in common._

"_Now I know the truth." Sylar gave a sweet, knowing smile. He imagined he looked quite crazed, but in truth, he felt as if he were too dead to properly feel anything a living person might in such a situation._

_But if he was being completely honest with himself...how did he gaze upon Arthur's face now? With anger...betrayal...regret?_

_Sylar turned back to see Peter. __Peter was a good soul. __ That was a miracle in itself, for his parents were brutal and pitiless. __Was Peter the only shred of goodness left in this world?_

_Of course he was, but Angela and Arthur had threatened to end that too. Angela had no doubt pushed Peter to murder his own father...and Arthur had forced Peter's hand as well, through a lifetime of emotional abuse._

_Did they even care about the repercussions of their actions? If Peter lost what made him Peter...__then who would stop Sylar? _

_And here Sylar had actually thought that __he__ could help Peter! That he could teach Peter how to reign in the hunger...__when Sylar had never done so a day in his life and even now had no idea as to where to begin.__ He felt supremely foolish and silly...embarrassed by his eagerness of before at the possibility of being able to be Peter's guiding light...his __hero__._

_It had all just been a sick game, one that Sylar was accustomed to losing. Sylar had been born cursed it seemed. Had he ever been human...or had he been born a beast, a mere slave to his primal passions? _

_But if Peter ever lost his soul then everything that was good in the world would surely cease to exist as well...__and Sylar didn't want that. He had never wanted that. He had just wanted to be a hero...but so had Lucifer at one time. Both of them had found their place in Hell...but Peter was still an angel._

_He was a beautiful angel...broken wings and all._

"_You're not a killer, Peter." Sylar murmured, the words flowing from his mouth in a sort of hushed silence. And Peter watched Sylar intently as he spoke...hazel eyes filling to the brim with realization..._

_And forgive us our trespasses._

_Give me your sins, Peter._

_And Peter gave them up readily...as if Arthur's office was some makeshift confessional and Sylar some perverse representation of a priest._

_As we forgive those who trespass against us._

"_I am." Sylar concluded, and his face hardened as he threw the bullet into Arthur's forehead with all his might. But he didn't care to watch Arthur fall...__who cared any longer what happened to Arthur...his own family had long ago abandoned him. Angela may have been a monster too, but at least she was made of something substantial...she held loyalty, devotion...her husband had always just been a sad little man playing at greatness in comparison._

_No, instead Sylar focused on Peter. He watched Peter's eyes widen in horror as the bullet ripped through his father's skull. Did Peter remember that he had indeed been the one to release that bullet...that he was willing to kill his own father simply to satisfy his long repressed rage?_

_No, for Sylar had absolved Peter of his sins. Sylar had killed his own mother once, what was another dead parent on his hands? But Peter had never taken a life before...and he couldn't start now with his father. After all, murder blackens the soul...Peter's pureness would be irrevocably sullied by such actions, whereas Sylar's was already so dark that another stain would matter not._

_And lead us not into temptation._

_Peter blinked back his teeming emotions, and once more Sylar couldn't help but find the young man devastatingly sensual. No, Sylar would no longer lust after Peter...__something more meaningful had changed all of that. __ But he had the strongest urge to just reach out and touch Peter's soft cheek...just a light, fleeting caress before pulling away. Just to see what kind of emotions Sylar could unlock from within Peter...from just the simplest of touches._

_But this thought was interrupted once Peter's eyes quickly relocated the gun...and Sylar wondered if Peter honestly thought that Sylar had come to kill the young man too._

_Had all they shared truly been meaningless? At the time they had thought they cared about each other; so why once their family bonds were erased, so to were the real feelings behind their previous actions?_

"_There'll be no need for that." Sylar whispered, and something twisting from within was threatening to violently crush him...__pain, pain, pain. If that's all a person ever knew in life then what happened when it finally all became too much? What would crack first...the body or the mind? __ "I'm not going to kill you."_

_But deliver us from evil._

"_You don't have anything I need anymore." Sylar finished, and he held Peter's bright gaze for only a second longer. Oh, god...those delicious, dangerous, darkly vivid eyes. Even as Sylar turned his body away he held that gaze...his head only snapping around at the last moment...knowing everything he had experienced previously was soon to be lost to him forever._

_And so the Petrelli family was down to three. But in reality...Peter was certainly more alone than even that. __Mommy lied to you too__...and it sounded as if his brother had even begun working with Arthur._

_Both men had started as bitter enemies...brought together to help each other...until life forced them apart and into lonely exile once more._

_Sylar's shoulders sagged as soon as he heard the door click shut from behind him. And so the sick game had ended...and he had nothing to show for the time he had spent playing it._

_For one moment in time...for the briefest of beautiful moments...Peter had called Sylar family. Peter had accepted Sylar's sins and he had not hated him._

_But that had all just been pretend, hadn't it? After all, Peter would hate Sylar again very soon. __Mommy was next to die after all..._

_Not that it mattered anyway. Nothing ever really mattered...__because what did Sylar have to show for any of this? Nothing...he hadn't learned empathy...he hadn't learned control...he hadn't found family or answers...Gabriel...Sylar...a Petrelli...a Gray...where the hell had he come from anyway?_

_Numb...Sylar had become so numb to it all...but he found that he still cared about one thing only. He was glad he had taken Peter's kill from him. Because that meant that he still knew exactly who Peter Petrelli was._

_He was still Sylar's tempting, messed-up little angel with the broken wing._

_Amen._

* * *

"_Peter doesn't __love__ you." Angela's voice was emotionless and cutting. Her dark eyes were full of ominous intent as her lips pursed into a thin line. "He's just very confused right now. You will never see him again and he will get better."_

"_No, you're wrong." Gabriel intoned, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. He held out his hand palm up in seeking clemency. "I know I hurt you and your family. But I'm different now. Your son showed me how to be a good person."_

"_You're a monster." Angela hissed, a small mirthless smirk escaping her. "A monster. And you will never lay a hand on any of my children again."_

"_But Peter and I love each other..."_

_Angela pulled a knife out of her pocket and pressed it directly against Gabriel's forehead. "If you say Peter's name again, I'm putting this blade right through your skull."_

Peter sat straight up in bed, his legs twisted in the damp sheets, his night shirt sticking to the sweat that peppered his entire body. He let out a low gasp; his lungs working to diligently suck in lost air as his hands rushed up to push his hair out of his clammy face.

_That dream...it had been so real...so vivid...just like when he would have prophetic dreams like his mother. _But Peter quickly shook his head, his hand fumbling over towards the cup of water he had on the nightstand. _He had Gabriel's ability to bend light. The dream was not prophetic at all...it was just his own fears manifesting themselves._

Peter eagerly gulped at the water, his throat suddenly feeling quite parched. He glanced down at the clock...his eyes narrowed as he felt a wave of displeasure hit him over the fact that his alarm was set to go off in five minutes.

The young man clicked the clock off before sleepily sliding out of bed. _It was time to begin another day_.

After undressing, Peter headed into the shower, the warm water welcomingly washing over his entire body. He pressed his forehead up against the wall; his thick mess of hair clinging to his face as water droplets rolled off of it and into his parted mouth.

_He hadn't heard from Gabriel in five days._

After their fight, Peter had gone to Central Park and walked around for hours, trying to clear his head and calm his temper. He couldn't believe everything that had transpired between the two of them..._how had the argument become that explosive? How had the fire gotten that far out of control so that both of them had gotten so badly burned?_

When he had returned home, he wasn't certain what he would say to Gabriel. Peter knew he still wasn't ready to look at the man yet; the hurt and anger over what had transpired still burning too brightly within his chest. After all, Gabriel's lack of self-control had truly hurt him this time and some things weren't so easily forgiven and forgotten. He was thankful that Gabriel had had enough sense to give Peter the time he had originally asked for...the apartment complex was familiarly empty upon the young man's return.

Empty and cold...just like before Gabriel had come into his life.

Peter turned the shower off, grabbing a towel from the rack to wrap around his lower form. He stepped out towards the bathroom mirror; his hand made a small circular pattern in the steam in order to assess his face once more. _Every day it looked a little better...maybe today it wouldn't be noticeable enough for him to need the sunglasses._

Peter let out a heavy sigh, his lips quirking to the side. The area around his left eye was still a dark purple and a sickly, splotchy yellow. His nose had light blue bruises dusting it and his lip held the brownish scab from where it had split.

_Nope. He still needed the sunglasses today. He felt like someone who came into the hospital for a damn domestic violence incident. It was embarrassing._

His paramedic partner, Hesam, had already officially needled him about it; assuming that Peter had somehow gotten into a bar fight. Peter had tried to laugh it off, but inside his stomach was full of twisted knots.

He couldn't help it. He missed Gabriel.

Peter had tried to pick up the telephone several times...but he always ended up placing it back down. _This wasn't like him...Peter had always been first in all his previous relationships to say 'I'm sorry'. He wasn't a pushover, but he also wasn't a prideful man by any means. He knew extending the olive branch often lead to hurt feelings being soothed on both sides. But...Gabriel was different. Gabriel had always been different._

Peter grabbed his black work bag and walked out of his apartment, being sure to lock the door behind him. Gabriel could've called _him_. After all, Peter knew he said some horrible things during their last fight, but Gabriel had physically thrown him into a wall..._or mentally thrown him into a wall, Peter conceded. _That had damaged something beyond small repairs, and Gabriel needed to understand that and fix it before he could walk right back into Peter's life.

Peter wasn't going to allow himself to be a pushover, after all. He wasn't Gabriel's punching bag..._emotional or otherwise._

_And it wasn't just that. It was the entire situation with his mother and Claire. If his dreams meant anything, it was that Angela attempting to kill Gabriel was a certainty should the two ever meet. And Claire...how would Claire ever view Peter if she knew? Gabriel had killed Claire's biological father...and now her uncle...her __hero__...was in a relationship with the man? Peter was scared she'd never look at him the same way again._

The early morning city sounds reached Peter's ears as he rounded the outdoors sidewalk. He tried to stop thinking about Gabriel_...to stop thinking about the man for two seconds..._but it seemed impossible.

Everything had been going so well between them it had seemed. Peter had never felt so open..._so safe, so in love_...with Gabriel than he had in the past few weeks. He had wanted to..._he had intended to ask Gabriel to move in with him entirely. For the two to share an apartment_. But he couldn't..._what if his mother needed to come over...or like tonight, Claire would be staying. _He needed Gabriel to have a place he could return to...in order to keep the two worlds separate. So he had done the next closest thing, he had given Gabriel the keys to his apartment.

_But Peter hated doing anything half-heartedly...especially in relationships. He wanted to love Gabriel without a safety net...but he had already fallen so many times before and each fall was more damaging than the last. He was bruised, he was hurting, and right now...he was drowning. He needed to resuscitate himself, because it seemed sometimes as if Gabriel was the one holding him under water._

Peter had always given the entirety of his heart away when in a relationship...he found strength and comfort in love and couldn't rightly picture himself behaving any other way. Yes, he had been cautiously guarded with Gabriel, considering their dark past together...but he thought he was beginning to feel those barriers slowly melt away.

After all, Gabriel was endearing in his small ways. He was also fiercely passionate and completely dedicated..._Peter had never been in a relationship that was such a whirlwind of excitement and passion. _It was breathtaking, but such intense emotional highs often had the exact same affect when it hit the lows.

Gabriel was needy and immature with his emotions..._but Peter didn't care. He wasn't exactly perfect either, and the young man had thought he had finally found a healthy way in which to work through Gabriel's troubled bouts of distrust and brokenness._

If Peter was just patient enough, understanding enough, empathetic enough..._Peter shook his head quickly as he angrily kicked at a rock in his path_. Empathy...what had once been his natural ability seemed to be continuously eluding him these days. His relationship with his mother...Gabriel...his need to work so many hours that it left him no time to remember the gaping hole that was perpetually bleeding within his heart.

Nathan was gone. And no one could ever bring him back. Tomorrow he would've been thirty-nine...Peter would've teased him that he was nearing forty and nearly over the hill...Nathan would've teased Peter right back, saying that at least he wasn't showing his age as much as Peter was. Peter felt a small grin tug at his lips at the thought...before giving a frown. _He was only thirty, but he did feel old today. He was tired all the time...it was probably just work, but sometimes it felt like so much more. Life...life had made him tired. Isn't that how old people felt?_

Peter reached into his black bag and slipped his sunglasses on over his eyes to effectively cover his bruises. His nose and lip injuries were still on display, but Peter didn't think those looked so bad...just a minor dustup rather than a glaring black eye. Without further hesitation, he strode through the double doors of _Mercy Heights Hospital_.

He nodded to the staff at the front desk and gave a friendly wave before rounding the corner towards the staff locker room. Hesam was already there, dressed in his paramedic's uniform, and raised an eyebrow as Peter entered.

"You can probably stop with the sunglasses, man. Everybody knows you got in a fight." Hesam gave Peter a small smile as the young man stopped by his locker door. "The other guy looks worse though, right?"

_Naw, he's fine. _Peter thought grimly, as he began pulling his paramedics shirt over his white undershirt. "I didn't get in a bar fight."

"Okay, fine. You can still probably ditch the sunglasses; they make you look like your trying to be cool or something."

"I don't want to freak out the patients." Peter replied, crisply, removing his sunglasses briefly for emphasis. "Would you wanna get in an ambulance with a face like this?"

Hesam gave a conceding nod and chuckle. "See you out there, man."

"Yup." Peter agreed, finishing getting his uniform soundly in place. He turned to look in the mirror..._Gabriel liked how Peter looked in his uniform. Gabriel would've said how handsome Peter looked in his sunglasses and paramedics outfit...only to rib Peter endlessly a moment later if he thought Peter had mentally agreed. He always thought Peter needed some humbling when it came to the young man's looks._

Peter gave a small snort, grabbing his black bag as he turned to leave. _Gabriel was a wonderful representation of being tall, dark, and handsome. Did Gabriel know how beautiful he was to Peter? That thick, dark mane of hair...eyes so dark and chocolate that they almost burned black in the night...a form that seemed to go on forever and blended into never-ending lean legs._

He wouldn't think on Gabriel any longer..._people needed saving today, after all. _And he had already saved Gabriel..._once, twice, three times_...he needn't worry about the latter constantly. Gabriel had done something that couldn't just be swept under the rug...and Peter needed to think long and hard about what he wanted to do next.

_Being with Gabriel could be exhilaratingly wonderful...but it could also be very broken and very dysfunctional. Peter needed to decide how much longer he really wanted to live like that...if the good always outweighed the bad._

Physically hurting each other was definitely out of the question. Peter had often used it as a means of making himself feel less guilty for loving his brother's killer..._but that reasoning was so messed up that it pained Peter he ever used it...or that Gabriel ever thought it was okay for Peter to do that to him_. That part hadn't been Gabriel's fault...it wasn't okay for two people to love each at any cost..._so that beating one another was alright so long as you made up afterward_.

But more was wrong between them than that..._Nathan being first and foremost. Peter knew that Gabriel was truly contrite for taking his older brother away from him. But sometimes he couldn't help but wonder...what if he could look in someone's eyes and not see the past. What if he could say 'I love you' to someone and never have known what it had been like to hate that person so violently you wanted to torture them to death?_

"_All units respond...all units respond. I have a domestic violence incident...14__th__ St...NYPD is currently on the scene..._" The P.A. announcer blared over the hospital speakers, interrupting Peter's troubled thoughts.

_Must be something in the water. _Peter thought bitterly, hurrying out towards where the ambulances were kept. He gave Hesam a quick nod as the two grabbed a unit and jumped in together, Peter taking the passenger's seat as always.

"You've been so dark and brooding this week." Hesam commented, throwing on the sirens as they tore out of the hospital together. "What's up?"

"I dunno." Peter gave a small shrug, glancing out the window at the New York City streets..._going down 14__th__ street they might pass Gabriel's bookstore. He hoped the man was still going to work. He hoped Gabriel could still do the right thing by himself without Peter there to guide him..._Peter shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. "It's my brother's birthday tomorrow. I've been thinkin' about him a lot."

Hesam nodded thoughtfully, no further explanation was needed. The death of a senator had been splashed across the front page of every New York newspaper. Peter was fervently grateful that his partner let the subject drop after that.

The ride wasn't very long; the house hadn't been that far a drive from _Mercy Heights_. Hesam pulled into the driveway of a small, two-story house with a white picket fence. It looked like anyone's version of the American Dream, Peter thought, coldly, that is until one noticed the police holding a large man over the side of their car in handcuffs. The man was cursing loudly; he was shirtless and his potbelly hung over his jeans. He seemed to be angrily struggling against the officers restraining him; a dark and dangerous look shining in his bright, blue eyes.

"Well, he looks like a mean son of a bitch." Hesam whistled, as he and Peter exited the ambulance together. "Glad we're only here for the wife."

Peter passed the man cautiously, eyes narrowing as he tried to wonder what kind of animal would beat a woman..._the man's sharp blue gaze met his own for a moment. Dark, greasy black hair was shrouding the man's glowering face, but the look there was clear. This man hated the world, and at the moment he particularly hated Peter for being in his yard. But Peter didn't scare; he just glared back until they approached one of the officer's for instructions_.

"Yeah, she's been knocked a good one." A portly officer explained his city accent thick as he spoke. "She's hidin' in the coat closet...first one when you enter. She's scared ta death, she won' come out fer me 'er any of my boys. But I think she needs medical attention."

Hesam gave Peter a pointed look. "Looks like this one's yours."

Because Peter was supposed to be the empathetic one..._in this case the empathy connected to his own experience. Hadn't they both just been hurt by those who were supposed to love and care for them? Still...her situation was severely different and not just because she was a woman. What he and Gabriel shared was too complicated to relate to anyone else._

Peter gave a firm nod, beginning his stride towards the victim's home. He overheard the man still ranting on in the background, his voice high and strained with rage.

"She won't tell me where my daughter went! My daughter ran away from home...my wife _helped _her, for God's sake...but she won't tell me nothin'!"

Peter entered the house quietly, trying to keep his movements slow and nonthreatening. He had heard sometimes that after a domestic violence incident all men were viewed as a danger...women often preferred female help directly afterward. Peter prayed he had the right words to say as he gently opened the slightly ajar door to the coat closet.

She was curled up with her shaky arms tightly hugging her knees as she sat on the floor; crimson hair enshrouding her trembling frame. There were dark and angry bruises covering her arms and legs. She was silently sobbing into her knees, her slender form shaking as she did so.

"Excuse me...ma'am?" Peter murmured, bending down onto one leg. "Ma'am...my name is Peter Petrelli...I'm a paramedic. I wanna make sure that you're okay."

If the woman had heard him, than she was ignoring him. Peter crouched lower and with exceeding care placed one hand on her shoulder to get her attention. "Ma'am?"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" The woman screamed, throwing her arm up in an attempt to toss Peter's hand away from her. "_Don't touch me_."

Peter lowered his voice, but made sure to keep his hands by his sides. "Ma'am, I wanna see if you need medical attention. May I?"

"He's gonna kill me." The woman sobbed, her own voice tinged with a city accent. "If I go out there, he'll kill me."

"No, ma'am. NYPD has him in handcuffs." Peter explained, trying to keep his voice as soft and soothing as possible. _She was so afraid. _"He can't hurt you anymore."

"Handcuffs can't stop him." The woman seethed, her head rising slightly off of her knees to show off her brilliant emerald eyes. "He's gonna kill me. He wants Jen...but I won't let him do that to her eva again...he can kill me, but he can't do that to her."

"Jen?" Peter asked, softly. Making a connection with patients often lead them to open up...usually once they started talking about their family and especially children.

"Jen...Jennifer's my daughter. She's his stepdaughter and he don't care about her one bit. I helped her escape...it's her he wants not me. He's gonna kill me ta get ta her!" The woman sobbed, tears streaking her face. Peter could now see that the area around her eye was badly bruised, worse than his had been. It was black and deep purple; the injury continued into the redness that swelled around her iris within the eye. Her neck had red handprints around them as if she had been strangled; her lips and nose had bloodstains coming from them. Her nose appeared fractured as well; her face covered in abrasions.

Peter winced slightly. "What's he want with Jennifer?"

The woman shook her head quickly. "I just need her to be okay."

_There was a girl struggling with a futon on the stairs...her eyes looked strangely liked this woman's...bright and wide like two giant emeralds. She was comically frustrated, her raven hair falling messily into her face as she grunted in irritation._

_Peter tapped her on the shoulder and flashed her his lopsided grin. "Need help?"_

_She turned around in sudden surprise. "Huh? Oh, no...no...I'm fine."_

_Peter gave her a comforting wink. "Hey, I swear, I'm not a creep. I can help you get this thing to the top of the stairs at the very least, right?"_

_Jennifer's startled look melted into a soft smile. "Okay...well, thank you."_

Peter pursed his lips in thought, finally deciding to go with his gut feeling. _The world had provided him with much stranger coincidences, after all. _"Is your daughter Jennifer DeLuca? Sweet girl, long black hair...green eyes like yours?"

The woman's eyes widened in both surprise and dread. "How do you know Jen?"

Peter felt a small, comforting smile tug at the corner of his lips. "She's my neighbor. I...I kinda helped her move all her stuff into her apartment. She's a real sweet girl; she baked me cannelloni as a thank you. It was delicious; she said it was your recipe."

The small, choked sound of relief escaped the woman's lips. "Jen...she's okay then? Yeah? You...you really helped her?"

"Aw man, she's just a real nice kid. I had to help her." Peter was smiling broadly now, his hand cautiously outstretching towards the woman. Her face was brightening already. "You know, I'd like to help you out too."

The woman gave a small nod, her own hand reaching out to grab onto Peter's. She tried to stand but winced in pain. "He messed up my leg I think."

Peter nodded, placing his hands on it softly. "It's just twisted." He explained, his fingers rounding her ankle. "Here, I can carry you...if that's okay with you."

The woman gave a nod, her face flushed from the whole ordeal. Peter scooped her up in his arms bridal-style, allowing her legs to dangle off of the crook of his arm as her head lay up against his chest. Peter tried to walk carefully, hoping not to exacerbate any of the pain she was experiencing.

Peter desperately hoped the police already had the woman's husband in one of the squad cars, and was relieved to find that they had. He quickly walked by where the man was being kept and headed towards the back of the ambulance. Hesam noticed him immediately, moving to open the back doors and bring out the gurney.

"Thanks, man." Peter breathed out, laying the woman's form down on the gurney. He gave her a small smile. "We're gonna take you to the hospital, okay? Get you feelin' better."

The woman tried to force a smile, but it faltered on her trembling lips. "Whatta 'bout you? You gonna stay wit' me?"

Peter nodded, resolutely. "I'm not gonna leave your side until we get there, alright?" He turned towards Hesam and the two men helped lift the gurney and raise it into the back of the ambulance. Peter then climbed in so that he was seated next to the woman as Hesam closed the doors behind them.

"You're gonna be okay." Peter promised, allowing the woman to slip her hand into his. She gratefully took it, squeezing all her fear and pain into it.

"I'm sorry, I don't even know you." The woman sniffled nervously, even as she continued to grip onto Peter's larger hand. "I just need somethin' to hang onto."

"It's okay." Peter shrugged, giving her hand a small squeeze in response. "I've had grown men hold my hand on the ride over. It's not a big deal."

The woman gave a short laugh, before sobering up quickly. "I just miss Jen, but I'm glad she's doin' alright. Gawd, I never meant for none of this ta happen. I dint mean ta bring this inta our lives. I feel like sucha horrible mother."

"You're not." Peter insisted, patting her hand gently with his free one. "Jennifer's a good kid; it looks like she was raised right. I think that takes a good mother, don't you?"

"But she'll never forgive me fer bringin' that monster home." The woman insisted, her lower lip trembling slightly at her words.

"Sometimes it feels that way." Peter agreed, quirking his lips to the side. "But when you love somebody it's surprising how much you can forgive them. She might come around once she realizes you're out of that situation."

"You're different than most people." The woman replied, pointedly, her eyes rising up to search Peter's face carefully. "What's yer name again?"

"Peter." Peter smiled, his hand still firmly entwined within hers. Her grip was starting to relax, and he was glad she was calming down. "But I haven't gotten your name yet."

"Mary. Mary DeLuca." Mary sighed, her eyes still searching him for something. What exactly it was, Peter wasn't certain. "Peter, huh?"

"Yup." Peter nodded, realizing it might've been his sunglasses that were putting her off. He was about to say something, but he stopped when he saw a relenting smile spread across her bruised and broken features.

"Gawd, thank you so much." She breathed out, sincerely, her head still damp with perspiration from all the pain.

"This? It's nothin'." Peter shrugged, uncomfortably. "You're the brave one. Me, I'm just a guy trying to do my part in the world."

"Don't be so modest." Mary chided, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "You said you helped my daughter earlier an' now you just saved me. You're...you're like...Superman or somethin', y'know?"

"Superman? Naw." Peter looked over his shoulder shyly, before turning back towards Mary's prostrate form. He gave a squint of his eyes as he said self-mockingly, "I'm not really that impressive once you get to know me, trust me."

Mary gave a small nod. "Well, then, since I _don't _know you...I guess it's impressive."

Peter gave a rough laugh and a self-depreciating eye roll. "Fair enough."

Peter's eyes drifted out towards the street window as his thoughts got away from him. _Gabriel was out there somewhere hurting just as much as he was. But he was still so angry at everything that had transpired...still felt like he had his boxing gloves on from their last match...still felt as if they had hit each other one too many times emotionally for this to all just go away and get better._

_But Claire was coming over tonight...that was a more cheerful thought, a small smile spreading across his face at the remembrance...and he was very excited to reconnect with his young niece. He'd pick her up from the airport at seven. It would be good to see a family member he could just relax around...someone who looked at him the same way he used to look at Nathan...with deep respect and admiration._

Peter paused from his thoughts, noting that Mary's smile slowly melted away from her features, her dark green eyes filling with worry. "I'm still scared. Is that...that normal?"

Peter nodded quickly. "Of course it is. But I'm not gonna let go of your hand until we get to the hospital. And then we got a really great staff, they're gonna take good care of you."

Mary mirrored his nodding, concern still painted on his face. "Okay...okay." She grimaced, her face contorting in discomfort as she placed her free hand to her ribs. "Thank you...thank you, Peter. You're my hero."

Peter pursed his lips tightly upon hearing her words. _He was her hero. Why did those words resound so terribly hollow in his head today?_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"_I like this picture of you." Gabriel decided, gazing upon the photo of Peter and Nathan together. Nathan had his face turned to the side, his nose practically pressed to the side of his younger brother's face. Peter was giving the camera an over-the-top wink with a rather smug and suave look on his face._

"_Yeah?" Peter asked, wrapping his arms around Gabriel's waist from behind as he nuzzled his nose into the back of Gabriel's neck, "And why is that?"_

"_Because it looks like you're having fun." Gabriel decided, quirking his head to the side as he moved around so that he was facing Peter. "I like seeing you like that. That was the side Nathan always got to see."_

"_I let other people see it too." Peter shrugged, taking the picture gently out of Gabriel's hands and gazed down upon it wistfully. "He'd just always bring it out of me the most. Sometimes...sometimes we'd get mom laughing so hard at somethin' we'd be up to. Even dad would laugh sometimes. That was best, when we could all laugh together." Peter gave a gentle chuckle to himself at the memory._

"_I like it when you show me that side too." Gabriel pressed, molding his large hands around Peter's lean hips. "I always knew serious, determined Peter...gentle Peter...but I love you like this." Gabriel pointed to the picture. "I like fun Peter."_

"_Guess I'm always just too busy being smooth, sexy Peter..." Peter joked, leaning in to press chaste kisses up and down Gabriel's neckline. Gabriel had a very nice neck and Peter always delighted in teasing it with kisses._

"_Um, no." Gabriel replied, disentangling Peter's grasp from him and giving the latter a dark smirk. "Unless snoring in your sleep and being kind of sappy is considered sexy."_

"_Being kinda sappy? What?" Peter laughed, reaching out to grab Gabriel as he quickly twisted his long, lean form out of the young man's grasp. "What's that supposed to mean? And for the last time, I don't snore."_

"_For the last time, you do snore. I'm awake when it happens and you're not." Gabriel teased, letting out a loud laugh when Peter playfully jabbed him in the side. "And you're sappy every time you get that look on your face...like you want to be romantic and you get those puppy-dog eyes when you stare at me..."_

"_That's the sexy face." Peter laughed, self-mockingly, as he poked at Gabriel once more, delighted at the pleased chuckles he was drawing from the other man._

"_No, Peter." Gabriel shook his head, breathless as he tried to escape Peter's prodding hands. "Hey, I'm not saying I don't love the sappy puppy dog eyes..."_

"_You know what..." Peter let the warning hang threateningly, as he gave Gabriel a small shove. "It's better than your romantic face...oh wait, you don't have one. I just get grabbed from behind and thrown down before I know if I should defend myself or not."_

_Gabriel gave a small shrug. "That's not always true."_

"_I know." Peter smiled, brushing his hand against Gabriel's cheek lovingly. "I was just teasing you."_

_Gabriel gave an eager nod and Peter felt his heart melt inside his chest. Oh, Gabriel...he might've always needed reassurance in the end, but it was times like these that Peter knew that being with the man was far better than being without him. This easy banter they had...this fluid understanding of one another...Peter craved this. Things with Gabriel might get complicated, but sometimes they felt so refreshingly simple._

_Gabriel knew everything about him. They had spent three years together as enemies and five years together in a dream world that had cemented their bond. They knew each other's histories and accepted one another for everything they were and had done; all heavy baggage included. It was these shared complexities that always reassured Peter that he and Gabriel were meant for each other._

"_This picture." Gabriel continued, picking up another one. "It's your commencement ceremony from college? What's that medal you have...it's a saint medal isn't it?"_

"_It's St. Agnes. She's the patron saint of nurses. My mom gave it to me." Peter replied, peering around Gabriel. "Nathan teased me about having a female patron saint, but mom told him you don't joke around about stuff like that."_

"_Was she very religious?" Gabriel asked, touching the picture lightly._

"_I mean, she sent us to Catholic school and made sure we learned our stuff." Peter gave a small shrug. "Religion just was a part of growin' up, I guess. I probably don't know as much as you do."_

"_That sounds healthy." Gabriel decided, his finger still tracing Peter's image beneath it. "You look so young. How old were you?"_

"_Twenty-six." Peter smiled, before it stilled on his lips. He softly reminded himself that Gabriel had known Peter when he was twenty-six...just not in a way either would like to remember. The past was the past; and it was good to leave it there. Gabriel was putting forth such a good effort; it was only fair to __him__ to leave the past alone._

"_Why'd it take you so long to graduate?" Gabriel asked, turning his face in curiosity towards Peter._

_Peter stifled a laugh. "I partied way too much."_

_Gabriel raised an eyebrow in surprise._

"_I'm just kidding." Peter chuckled, knocking his shoulder up against the taller man's. "I didn't start college until later. I had to save money up to pay for it myself."_

"_I thought your family was rich." Gabriel replied in slight confusion._

"_They were. My dad wasn't gonna pay for me to become a nurse." Peter gave a small shrug. "He said he'd pay for me to become a doctor, but not a nurse. Well, I didn't wanna be a doctor. I wanted to work directly with the patients...I wanted to be with people."_

_Gabriel was silent for a moment until he gave a firm nod of his head. "I like that. You did what you wanted to do."_

"_Nathan called it being stubborn." Peter smiled. "But he supported me in his own way."_

"_I like that story." Gabriel pursed his lips in thought. "You don't let anyone decide your destiny for you, Peter."_

"_Well, neither do you anymore." Peter interjected, softly._

"_Because of you." Gabriel admitted, softly. He placed the picture back down, as well as the one of Peter and Nathan. Gabriel turned back towards Peter; his hand reaching out to touch the latter's cheek, gently. "Because of what you showed me, Peter."_

_Peter leaned into Gabriel's warm touch. "Hey, I love you."_

_Gabriel gave a gentle nod, his eyes intensifying darkly. "Do you...do you believe in destiny? That you and I were always supposed to be together?"_

"_I dunno." Peter murmured, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. "But I think we're supposed to be together now."_

_Gabriel thought this over carefully, his eyes darting softly towards the ground. "Peter..."_

"_Yeah?" Peter urged him...he wanted to hear Gabriel say that he loved him back. He knew Gabriel cared for him deeply, but he wanted to enjoy those words...he wanted reassurance that all the chaotic feelings that churned within him were also shared by the other man. It made it less scary...it made everything less scary and safer feelings when love was expressed and caressed by those three, tender words._

"_Peter..." Gabriel's words faltered on his lips as he took Peter's head in his hands and pressed their lips together passionately._

_Peter kissed Gabriel back with added force, turning his head as they opened their mouths in tandem to intensity the embrace. He was a little disappointed, but he thought maybe Gabriel just needed time...just needed more time to open up._

_Love was scary, after all. Peter knew that better than anyone, although it seemed he often threw all caution to the wind when in love. Still...his heart thudded in his chest, hoping that this time it would be well cared for...it was a fragile thing now and he needed Gabriel to respect that, to tenderly guard it and to strengthen it in security once more._

_Yes, they were just words. But Peter felt as if he were flying ever since he lost his mind and fell in love with Gabriel. He just needed to hear the latter say 'I love you' back...he needed to know that Gabriel would be there to catch him should he ever fall._

Peter gazed out the locker room window, lost in memories of himself and Gabriel. God, that man frustrated him to no end. He loved Gabriel..._and he was even okay with the fact that Gabriel was so much trouble...that the man had endless jigsaw pieces to put into endless spaces until everything was less jumbled up..._but he hated the fact that Gabriel could be biting and hurtful..._and the fact that those haunting words of Gabriel's still rang in his head...about making a terrible choice between Gabriel and Peter's remaining family someday. He couldn't lose his mother...he couldn't lose Claire...but losing Gabriel seemed equally as painful._

He wondered, momentarily, what it would be like to be in a relationship in which no one knew anything about him..._didn't know he had almost blown up New York...didn't know he had killed his own father...didn't know he had once lost his mind in hunger and nearly cut open his mother's skull in anger_. Other times he delighted in that fact..._Gabriel knew why Peter was a somewhat tortured soul at times, because Gabriel was tortured for the same reasons. Together they could heal...together they could become whole once more._

_Where was Gabriel anyway? The goof probably hadn't left his apartment building in five days...never mind his shop's customers, never mind he probably needed to get food or pay his bills or do anything...god, why was he so helpless? And why did Peter care so much?_

"Peter!" Hesam interrupted, wrapping his knuckles up against the wall of the doorway. Peter jerked his head in Hesam's direction, his eyes widening in curiosity.

"It's that lady you saved." Hesam replied, moving his head in the direction of down the hall. "She wants to see you before you leave."

"Oh...okay. Thanks" Peter agreed, shoving his paramedic shirt into his locker. He had dressed up a bit nicer than usual today..._he wanted to show Claire he was taking good care of himself. She had made him promise he would do so whenever she wasn't around._

Peter rounded the corner to Mary DeLuca's hospital bed, wrapping his hand on the glass to get her attention before entering. Mary's eyes widened happily when he did so; she raised her hands to smooth out her long, red mane as discreetly as possible.

"You look a lot better." Peter smiled, giving her a small tap on the shoulder. "The doctor says you only need to stay overnight. You'll probably get to leave sometime tomorrow."

"I feel better...I think it's mainly because I'm drugged up on pain medication, but y'know..." Mary shared an appreciative chuckle with Peter. Her face turned serious as she added, "I really wanna thank you again. Not just fer what you did fer me, but fer my Jen too."

"Like I said, it's nothin'." Peter shrugged, a lopsided grin quirking his lips.

"Yeah, I know." Mary grinned back. "Can I ask a big favor of you?"

"Yeah, sure." Peter shrugged, pulling a chair up in the room so that he could sit down next to Mary's bedside.

"Can you keep an eye on Jen fer me? Y'know, not like you hafta watch out fer her er anythin', just make sure she's okay every now an' then." Mary's bright green eyes grew darker at the seriousness of her request. "I'd do it myself, but I wanna be sure everythin' is safe before I get in contact wit' her again."

"Yeah, of course." Peter nodded, sincerely. "No problem, okay?" He reached out to squeeze her hand again before adding, "Now can you do me a big favor?"

"Anythin'." Mary agreed, quickly.

"I never wanna get a call about you again." Peter insisted, a seriousness also befalling him. "I mean it; I don't want you to be one of those people who go back. You gotta get out of that situation. For yourself and for Jen, right?"

"I know." Mary let out a heavy sigh; her hands coming up to softly cup her own purple and blue cheeks. "He...he used ta beat Jen too. And then...and then he had her doin' some real terrible stuff...stuff that..."

Mary's eyes flooded with tears as she went silent. Peter just gave a small nod, his hand giving hers a gentle squeeze once more. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it yet."

Mary nodded, wiping her eyes quickly. "Well...I guess this is goodbye then."

Peter gave a small nod. "Hey, you never know, I might see you around. But not during work hours or I'll be pissed, okay?"

A large smile broke out on Mary's face. "No, no, I promise." She withdrew her hand from his, her eyes darting away slightly as she spoke in a softer tone, "Maybe we'll see each other when you take me out ta coffee?"

Peter felt his smile fall from his face, his own hand retreating to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. "Mary..."

"Oh, no...I understand. That was weird." Mary looked down at her hands that lay across her lap. "Please, ferget I said it."

"No, no...that's not it." Peter took in a deep breath, his eyes moving back towards hers. "I'm..." _Oh, he had never actually said the words to anyone else before. It was ironic, Gabriel would be so happy if he wasn't so mad at Peter right now. _"I'm in a relationship."

"A relationship?" Mary pressed, the disappointment filtering into her voice. She hesitated, before trying to lighten her tone. "Well, that's nice."

"Yeah..." Peter continued to absentmindedly rub the back of his neck. "It's a little complicated right now, but it's good."

Complicated seemed like an understatement at the moment, and it flashed through Peter's mind that he might have been slightly hypocritical earlier to lecture Mary about leaving her husband. But didn't that happen in every line of work...the nurses in the hospital often smoked on their lunch breaks, the psychiatrist that was getting a divorce but does couple counseling, and the paramedic that was insisting that the abused woman not go back to her tumultuous, confusing relationship when he had one of his own.

Peter tried to push all these thoughts to the back of his mind..._in this line of work; you couldn't bring your home situation in with you. It didn't matter if he was a hypocrite or not, the important thing was making sure she got the help she needed. _"Okay, I need to get goin'. But remember what you promised me."

"I know." She nodded, and Peter hoped she was telling him the truth..._it would be nice to get a victory every now and then._

Peter gave a curt nod; forcing a smile back onto his face for Mary's sake. "Thank you, I really appreciate that. Now you take good care of yourself okay?"

"You too." Mary insisted, giving him a small nod goodbye.

Peter returned it, before turning and leaving the room. His heart was hammering loudly in his chest..._he wondered how he could always give advice so fluidly to others when he hardly ever knew how to handle his own emotions. Was being in love enough to keep what he and Gabriel had alive? Was he wrong for wishing that Gabriel would come back and say he was sorry...was he wrong for wanting Gabriel even though he knew the other man was right...that someday a terrible choice did indeed loom? It was all so emotionally consuming and he felt as if there was no one to give him a moment's respite from it all._

_No..._Peter gave a grateful sigh, as he waved goodbye to his coworkers and headed towards the hospital exit. _No...there was still Claire. And he was going to see Claire tonight. She would help him feel better. She always did...after all, she was __his__ hero too_.

* * *

_It all seemed like a lifetime ago. The moment when Chandra Suresh chose to enter his godforsaken, little clock shop. It hardly felt as if it was his life he was remembering anymore...being Gabriel Gray...no powers...no clue about how big or how scary the world was in its entirety...no. It was as if it had all been a strange dream and he had just awoken to find himself here...at the threshold of being the most powerful man on earth._

_After killing Arthur, Sylar had gone after Angela, determined to make her pay for her dark lies and cruel intentions as well. He had been intent on proving to Noah and Claire Bennet that they were monsters as well...Noah's arrogance was becoming grating and Claire's innocence was in need of some sound corruption. He had captured all of them, including a woman that turned out to be Claire's biological mother. He had pitted them all against each other, one delicious game after another, until he had finally found himself all alone with Angela._

_He had demanded to know if Angela was his mother or not. She had simply replied that she wasn't...and he finally realized that she had Peter's eyes. Had Sylar ever noticed that before? They were the exact same shape and held the same colors drifting through them._

_Sylar had been almost certain that Angela wasn't his mother anymore...he supposed there had still been a __sliver__ of hope...but his gut reaction was that she had manipulated him as well. Now, he felt as if he hated being right...he wanted Angela to be his mother and he had never known how much until that very moment. If only Angela could've __really__ loved him...cared for him...fed him so that the hunger no longer consumed his every action._

_But no. She had lied too. And the world truly was a dark and hopeless place...and deep down Sylar had wished for a few good souls to inhabit it, no matter what he expressed outwardly ...__good souls like Peter__...but it felt as if everyone was out to hurt one another...everyone was out to destroy each other._

_He had gone on a journey to find his true parents. The man he had thought to be his father had in truth bought him from his biological father before abandoning Sylar and his mother. He had traveled further...months even...until finding his biological father and uncovering the truth: his past, his suppressed memories, and his biological mother._

_His mother had been murdered by his father. He remembered her faintly now...she smelled like cigarette smoke and a strange mix of garden herbs...her hair had been dark like Angela's and her eyes like black coffee...they were Sylar's eyes but they were expressive like Peter's. She had called him Gabriel...after the angel._

_Somehow, that had never changed._

_His father was pathetic. Sylar had been cursed enough to inherit his father's exact ability—hunger and all—he had found out upon visiting the man. His father, Samson Gray, was dying of cancer. Samson had killed so much and so often he had forgotten why anymore. Sylar had left his father with the realization that Sylar could live forever...and Samson would die alone. Taunting the man who had caused Sylar so much pain had been slightly satisfying...before he knew it was only a matter of time until he __was__ Samson...Sylar was painfully near becoming the man as well...__a life of searching but never finding; seeking but never having._

_Samson was pointless, he was purposeless. He had powers...but he was not special._

_That struck Sylar for the very first time. One could have all the abilities of the Earth but do nothing of consequence with them. Samson certainly hadn't. Samson was just a sad, pathetic man...for someone with an unimaginable array of powers, he was disturbingly ordinary...he was just like everyone else. Very few people live a life of meaning...it takes someone truly exceptional to do so, after all._

_Like Peter. He was a hero._

_Ah, Peter. Sylar had thought he was done with Peter. After all, his overwhelming and disturbing lust for the man had long since died away. So had his feelings of intense brotherhood towards Peter. Sylar imagined all that was left now was the burning shared hatred between them. But no...something new had bubbled forth in its place._

_Peter had never lied to Sylar. Peter was special. Peter was different from all the others. Peter was intense, determined, dangerous, giving, an angel, a warrior...Peter simply was._

_None of that made much sense to Sylar...but neither did Peter anymore. And Sylar had given up trying to understand it all. Maybe Peter was just the one thing that was impossible to decipher...__I'd like to see how that works__...but Peter was the most complicated, beautiful piece of machinery in the world and Sylar wasn't equipped with any of the proper tools to fix him to Sylar's liking._

_If anything still made sense, it was that Sylar had given up trying to make Peter be like him. If anything, Sylar wanted to be like Peter now. A life of meaning...of purpose...if he could be the only person with abilities in the world...__then the world was his playground and finally everything scary would be made tame...nothing would ever be out of his control again__._

_Peter's brother, Nathan Petrelli, had set up camps for people with abilities. Nathan had apparently turned against his own kind; was willing to kill his own people for personal gain and glory. Oh, those Petrellis...such a dirty, dark little family. Their closet was practically overflowing with all the skeletons they kept shoved in it. How had Peter turned out so painfully honest; he had grown up in a den of thieves._

_But dear Nathan had actually lent the perfect plan to Sylar. Sylar decided to team up with a government agent, Danko, and help hunt down other little special ones. He could exterminate them all, harvest their powers, and then watch as the world eagerly bowed to his every wish. He had even killed a shape shifter that looked like him, making it so that the world thought him dead. This made it even easier to operate, using his new power to finally escape his life once and for all and be so many new...fun...interesting people..._

_He was fifteen when he looked in the mirror the day he decided he hated himself. Awkward boy with long, wiry limbs...glasses that were too big for his face...hands that were only good for tinkering with clock parts. He hated himself. He wanted to be someone, anyone else...someone popular and handsome and confident...he would do anything to wake up one day and be anyone other than Gabriel Gray._

_And then he was Sylar...and Sylar was different than Gabriel...Sylar could be messy, Sylar could be unpredictable, Sylar didn't have to be good or go to church or dress so embarrassingly poor. But Sylar was always just Gabriel trying to play pretend...trying to wear a mask and make believe he still didn't hate himself when in truth he had never stopped..._

_He felt as if he had completely lost his mind. As a young man, he had feared mental illness, knowing that such things often ran in families and so genetics were already working against him. He had read countless books on the subject, none more comforting than the last. He had finally settled on promising himself never to lose his mind if only by sheer willpower alone...__he never wanted to be like his mother.__ But now...now with this new power of shape shifting ravaging his senses...now he didn't know who he was. Now he felt his mind slipping...his thoughts betraying him as he fell into dark episodes of brokenness and despair. Maybe he had never been normal...god, he hardly knew anymore, all he knew was that he needed his mother._

_He needed her to come back...to save him from himself._

_She had come back to forgive him...__but he knew that he was never truly absolved__...and to press him to be more than he was...__he hated that. How many people had he killed and still it wasn't enough...yet, she was right...she was always right.__ Danko was clearly just using him now...__surprise, surprise__...and so Sylar decided it was time to forget the world and everyone in it and only rely on himself. __He was all he ever had._

_He would become president. He would turn into Senator Nathan Petrelli and shake the President's hand. Then he could have a life of purpose. A life of meaning. He would finally find what had been missing within for so long._

_He could finally look in the mirror and not wish to break it._

_And so he had traveled to Nathan's office. Oh, Nathan truly was Arthur and Angela's son. So selfish and arrogant and so filled with lies and deceit he hardly knew what the truth looked like anymore. Nathan had everything a man could ever want...money, power, prestige, an ability, a loving family...Sylar softly touched the picture frame that held the photograph of Nathan and Peter on Nathan's wedding day. They were both smiling very brightly; both clearly loved each other very much._

_Peter could never see the truth, could he?_

_And then Nathan had entered his office; demanding Sylar to get out of his body. He seemed to think he was better than Sylar...Nathan was certain that no one on earth would believe that Sylar was the former because everyone would be able to tell their twisted minds a part._

"_I'm not gonna be you..." Sylar had replied, his eyes shining with delight. "I'm gonna be better than you."_

_Because once Sylar was Nathan he wouldn't be plagued with uncertainty and doubt. He wouldn't be pathetically self-loathing and hypocritical. Sylar would simply go after what he wanted and get it. He'd be the senator the world had wanted but could never seem to get...most men being ruled by their insecurities, after all._

_Nathan had been knocked unconscious and pretty, little Claire had shown up to find her biological father. Sylar hadn't wanted her to come along, but she had insisted. It occurred to him that he didn't want to raise suspicion...__and she could be of use if he found himself in a situation in which hostages were needed__...and so he allowed her to follow him._

_Brave, stupid girl. Why hadn't she just stayed home?_

_And now he had her trapped with him. She was so deliciously more defiant since he had first met her at homecoming; her tender innocent nature of before having melted away into something more brave and fierce. He had delighted in allowing her to see the reality of her predicament, showing her his true form as he simultaneously stilled her movements with telekinesis. She couldn't run from him anymore...she was ensnared in his clutches at last._

_The pretty cheerleaders at school had always ignored him. Pretty golden curls bouncing on the soft skin of their shoulders; pretty smiles on those cruel, heartbreaking faces._

_It was revenge against all those pretty little devils that made Sylar lean in to Claire's endless golden mane and take in a deep breath of the sweet, feminine scent of her shampoo. It was like lilacs...or some kind of precious flower. __She couldn't run away and ignore he existed now__. He delighted in the perversity in the situation...__he didn't love her, he didn't even lust for her, but he was making her uncomfortable and that pleased something wickedly mischievous inside of him. Oh, what would Papa Bennet think?_

_She had a look of pure disgust radiating in those big, green eyes and that was the intended result. He released his breath slowly, "Oh, god. This is fun." He murmured, giving her a rather poignant look before turning away._

_He plopped himself down on the sofa, forcing Claire towards the liquor cabinet. It was like some bizarre high school fantasy he had never gotten to play out. He never drank; he had never had a girl over with his mother out of the house...__or in the house, for that matter__...and he had never been in such control of the situation as he was now. Claire had ignored him when he had tried to be good to her...had tried to apologize to her...and now she would pay the price for thinking that pretty, little cheerleaders were so much better than everyone else._

"_Don't you love a good pinot?" Sylar mocked, watching as he forced Claire to uncork the wine bottle that she held in her hands._

"_My dad's on his way." Claire snapped, defiantly. __She was definitely related to Peter; they both could be so irritatingly mouthy when pushed__. "He's gonna stop you and then I'm gonna kill you."_

_Sylar gave a small, mock-conceding nod before turning Claire around with a mere flick of his wrist. "No." He decided, confidently, drawing his outstretched hand backwards to bring Claire towards the table before them. "Actually, I'm gonna kill him."_

_Claire placed the wine down on the table; her face so screwed up in familiar determination. Brave girl...__if Sylar hadn't been the villain would Peter and Claire ever have become the heroes? They should really thank him for his part in it all._

"_Or have you kill him." He added, wickedly, allowing Claire to straighten back up. "I haven't decided yet."_

_She was so helpless...so powerless. God, he __loved__ it. He loved the power he held in the situation, it was invigorating. Her every move was based on his whimsy. He had allowed her control of her own facial muscles...every dirty look sent in his direction only served to amuse him further with his impertinence towards her._

"_Don't give me that look." He sneered, flipping his hand and effectively flipping her and her unwanted expressions away. "Everybody dies sometime..." He continued, most eagerly._

_Sylar continued to guide her motions in picking out the wine glasses. "Well," He amended smugly, "Almost everybody."_

_Claire grabbed a glass in each hand as Sylar took her silence as an advantage to begin speaking on whatever he wished to...__and she was forced to listen. She couldn't run away and couldn't tune him out.__ "Papa Petrelli, Mama Bennet..." He made a mockingly childish voice as he added, "Mr. Muggles."_

_Oh, Claire detested him right now. __Not as much as Peter probably did, but that didn't matter. It was a start to get her to care just as much as Peter did._

"_What's your brother's name again, Larry?" Sylar posed, conversationally. Claire was facing him again, her face strained with tension._

"_Lyle." She replied, tersely._

"_Lyle...right." Sylar pretended to think on this fact before adding gleefully, "He's gonna die too."_

_Claire placed the glasses down on either side of the wine bottle. Maybe she'd be trembling with fear if he allowed her to, but he doubted it. Claire was very angry right now and that was fun to toy with. __Angry little girl unable to get away from him. It was her turn to listen._

"_As we speak my father is dying." He continued, forcing Claire to walk backwards until she fell into the sofa behind her. "Did I tell you I got to meet my real Dad?"_

_Claire's look was that of disbelief and annoyance, as if uncertain why Sylar wished to tell her these things...__because he could, simple as that._

"_Boy, that was a disappointment." He sighed bitterly, pouring wine into one of the glasses. __Everything was casual and fun about this...never mind the nagging feelings of real anger and pain that always threatened to bubble forth to the surface. No, never mind them...everything was perfectly within his control. He held the power here.__ He cast a curious glance in Claire's direction. "Have you ever stopped to think about how much we have in common, Claire?"_

_He pushed her wine glass in her direction. __It wasn't legal for her to drink yet__. He imagined with a smirk._

_He began to rise to his feet while saying, "You were adopted...I was adopted." He made her pick the wine glass up in her hands...__he imagined Claire was a good girl. Pretty and innocent and didn't break the rules because she was all sugar and spice and everything nice or whatever the hell the saying was._

"_You can't die." He sat back down next to her on the sofa, moving very slowly to pronounce his actions. "I can't die."_

_He moved to clink his glass against hers and everything felt so bad and naughty about the situation. He imagined Claire felt the same way. She wasn't scared at all; on the contrary, she was brimming with determination; bright emerald orbs full of spirit and spunk. __Just like Peter. He'd probably be here soon too; after all, the Italian Eagle Scout had to protect his badge of cheerleader-saving honor. Did the fun never stop?_

"_Oh, you can die." Claire threatened, a beautifully dangerous smile painting her lips. "I'll make sure of it."_

_Claire never disappointed. He gave her one last knowing look before taking a sip of wine...__he never drank, but Claire could see him differently just now than he truly was; like some carefree and supremely confident man with all the power and prestige at his fingertips. She drank too; though she struggled not to, but he wished her to join him and so she had no choice._

_He drew her hand back as she glared at the glass in revulsion. He wondered how much longer he had with her. He could keep her here until it was time to meet the president, but as he imagined, there were Petrelli brothers and a Mr. Bennet that would probably dictate otherwise. Nonetheless, he'd be sure to make the most of the uninterrupted time he had._

_Sylar took in a deep inhalation of the wine, as if his thoughts consisted of nothing more than enjoying his beverage. He then turned back to her; a new onslaught of wicked thoughts flitting through his mind. "You'll get bored, after like a hundred years of trying to off me...watching your loved ones drop like flies. You may eventually come to forgive me." He offered...__cheerleaders with bouncy golden curls...he had always watched mesmerized as it leapt up and down with every little movement on their part. He had always wanted to reach out and touch it...to play with it. He didn't want Claire in such a manner, but at least he was now allowed to play with her hair. She certainly was in no position to deny him._

_He reached out and touched the golden silk ever so lightly as he leaned in closer to her. "Maybe even love me."_

"_I'll keep trying." Claire retorted, with ferocious sincerity. "For the rest of my life."_

_Her words hit him harder than he thought any of her defiant responses would. He had expected her to throw it back in his face, but he hadn't expected to feel as poorly as he did once it happened. __Claire would never forgive him__. Of course not, no one ever would._

_Sylar glanced away, desperate not to have any real emotions enter his dark gaze and ruin the little scene he had created for both he and Claire. He gave a small nod, trying to regain his act of unwavering confidence once more. "Well, everybody needs a hobby." He replied, as he nonchalantly drank once more from his wine glass. He tried again...__determined to punish her for making him feel small once more...he was in power here, not her. __"I mean, I'm not saying there aren't bridges that need to be built..." __She would play out this delusional little fun he had orchestrated to comfort himself, and she wouldn't hurt him any longer with her cutting, indifferent words. She would learn to be silent and just listen to what HE wanted to say._

"_But if we start building them now..." He murmured in a mock-caressing tone, touching her golden tendrils gently as he felt his heart give a leap at Claire's recoiling disgust. __Who was in control now? Who was hurting who now?_

"_Who knows...?" He whispered, intrigued by how her small, slender frame was beginning to tremble in barely contained rage. He brought his face as close to hers as possible without compromising his own personal boundaries. "You could be my first...first lady."_

"_Go to hell." Claire seethed, squeezing her eyes as tightly shut as possible._

"_It could be fun." Sylar countered, feeding off of her growing horror. "We could have fun. You and me..."_

"_No, because you're gonna die!" Claire shouted, her big, green eyes flashing open to burn into his own once more. "My dad is coming for me...and Peter and Nathan are both..."_

"_You put so much faith in them." Sylar scoffed, taking the time to enjoy the feeling of her soft, blond waves caressing his fingers. He had always loved to touch another's soft, silken hair; to delight in the feel of it between his hands, wanting them or not. "Why?"_

"_Because they're my family." Claire continued, her eyes darkening with determination. "And together we're gonna watch you burn. Peter..." Her eyes went wide as Sylar moved flesh against her form; she was beginning to fear what he would actually do to her, and was grasping at straws. "Peter is stronger than you and..."_

"_Save your breath!" Sylar snarled, and his caressing hand suddenly turned to push her roughly away from him; watching as she fell to the sofa in a heap. "I know Peter lost all of his powers. Don't lie to me."_

"_I'm not." Claire spat, her head snapping back as he jerked her back up to a sitting position. She took a deep breath; her nose flaring as she snapped, "Peter doesn't need his powers to be stronger than you."_

_Sylar felt as if she had slapped him across the face once more. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and yanked her forward, her face now inches from his; his hot breath blasting against her again and again. She recoiled; bright eyes shining with worry but still holding her own beneath his sudden display of temper._

"_Don't talk to me about Peter." Sylar hissed, his voice falling dangerously low. He was mad now; she had once more spoiled his fun. __And he was so sick of hearing about Peter.__ "I don't want to hear his name anymore."_

"_Why? Are you afraid of him?" Claire taunted, realizing she now held an upper hand in the situation. Her eyes narrowed, her spirit seeming to resurface now that the talk had drifted away from Sylar's perverse comments about her. "You should be."_

"_Why would I fear Peter?" Sylar demanded, a harsh chuckle escaping his throat. He reestablished his grip on Claire's neck; fingers threading through her golden curls and grasping at them with trembling rage. "He's nothing! If he enters those doors he'll be dead before you so much as make a sound."_

"_He had nothing when he first saved me either." Claire continued, spitefully. She gave a smug smirk, her eyes dancing with dark enjoyment as she whispered in false innocence, "Remember?"_

"_Shut up!" Sylar snapped; throwing her back down onto the sofa. He took in a deep breath; determined to gain control of the situation once more. __He was in power here, not her__. "Well, we'll just see what happens...won't we, Claire?"_

_Claire gazed up at him with mortification; her upper lip curling in disgust as he continued to rant now, his temper flaring._

"_I was gonna let you close your eyes when I killed him." Sylar seethed, forcing her eyes shut simply by closing his opened palm into a tight fist. "But now...now I think I'm gonna make you watch." He opened his hand again and her eyes flashed open; wide and intense with a mix of hatred and fear. "But not talk." He decided, pressing her lips tightly together. "If I hear any last declarations of love or special family bonding going on, I just might get sick."_

_He leaned nearer to her once more, his voice now barely registering above a whisper. "Just silence, Claire. Just his screams resounding in those sweet little ears of yours..." Sylar rounded her ear with a tender touch and tears of rage and dread were now clouding her jade vision. "And just...just remember; as he's pleading for your help and you can't even answer him...just remember that you couldn't save him like he once saved you." He gave a harsh laugh, his eyes shining with mirth. "It's so beautifully tragic, don't you think? I can't wait."_

_Sylar gave a cruel, sadistic grin as Claire's breathing deepened; her chest rising and falling at a quickened pace. His pleasure was cut short however, by the sudden, intrusive sound of footsteps resounding in the hallway. He hesitated, jerking his head towards the door. Claire noticeably stiffened...she couldn't hear them yet, but she seemed to sense Sylar's sudden eagerness. The footsteps belonged to two different men...it was the Petrelli brothers, no doubt, a united front once more._

_Even better._

"_Speak of the devil." Sylar hissed, giving Claire an excited, near crazed look. "It's our favorite uncle now, here to die for __you__, no doubt."_

"_If you hurt him..." Claire seethed, trying to struggle against Sylar's hold on her as much as possible; thrashing her head around back and forth. But it was hopeless. She was completely at his mercy...__and things were about to get very interesting._

"_I'll make it quick." Sylar promised; his tone flat and even as he moved to telekinetically lift her off of the couch; her body now dangling in midair. "Aww, Claire. See what happens when you don't play nice?"_

"_You son of a bitch!" Claire snapped, her eyes flashing in such a familiar way...__how many times had he seen Peter give him that same look._

_Sylar gave her a cruel smirk, before thrusting his arm forward to effectively throw her through the double doors...she was the perfect incentive for the Justice League behind said doors to come bursting forth into the room._

_Yes.__ Sylar thought, his hands falling to his sides in preparation. __Things were about to get very interesting. But this time he was in control, and no one would take that away from him._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Invisible threads. They can connect and interweave between people's lives without a person ever really realizing that fact. Gabriel had always been connected to others; the absolute isolation he always felt more of his own imposition than reality. He had just never taken the time to understand the truth. The Petrellis, the Bennetts, the Parkmans, the Sureshes, even the Nakamuras...he had somehow been inextricably tied to all of them in a deep and profound way.

And then he had cut the thread. He had sliced it in two and watched it stumble and fall to the ground without so much as an acknowledgement of everything he had just destroyed. At the time, he had thought himself so clever and on the precipice of greatness. But in reality he had forever broken something that he was ill-equipped to fix.

It was one of the memories that Gabriel could never try and think on for too long. The moment he had killed Nathan; the moment he had forever cut the invisible link that had joined him with so many others on this strange journey that destiny had placed them all on.

Of all the memories that plagued his mind, that one was simply untouchable..._because it existed in such a bizarre and horrible way in his mind. On one hand, he could see himself...wishing to punish Peter for never loving him, to punish Angela for pretending she loved him only to abandon him...to take away something that __they__ loved...on the other hand, he saw it all chillingly happen as if he were Nathan...how the man had purposefully taken Sylar away from Peter. Nathan had nothing more than the ability to fly and yet he had made sure that Sylar and he had fought one on one in the end simply in the hopes that it would guard his little brother from further harm. He was Peter's protective, big brother to the end._

_He was a hero._

Invisible threads. Gabriel placed a book, _The Count of Monte Cristo, _back into the shelves after a customer had left it lying on the chair they had previously been sitting in. It had been five days since he had last seen Peter, and he was back to tending his bookstore. He had missed a couple days of work initially, but something deep inside had told him that it was important that he accept responsibility without the presence of Peter's guiding hand.

_After all, he hated it whenever Peter acted as if he were a child. Well, there was something profoundly grownup about going to work, even when you didn't feel like it._

That didn't stop the fact that he missed Peter, Gabriel's heartbreak only intensifying over their lack of recent contact. It was always the worst in the morning..._Peter's gentle kiss goodbye clearly absent..._and right before bedtime..._Peter's warm and loving form replaced by a quiet coldness that permeated Gabriel's apartment._

Perhaps it had been better to live in a secret world in which Peter existed than to never have Peter at all. Gabriel cursed himself for his inability to make things right with the young man..._but that's how it always was with Peter. He was the only thing on Earth that was impervious to Gabriel's ability. Gabriel simply couldn't understand how Peter worked...or how a relationship with the young man should tick, for that matter._

Gabriel walked the length of his bookstore, glancing into one of the stacks to notice two young girls with curly, black hair and dark skin seated on the floor. They looked like sisters, the older one holding the book _Goodnight Moon_ as they tried to read aloud together. He quirked his lips into a small grin..._he had always loved children. He thought he would make a good father; sure to give more support and guidance than he had ever received in his own life. He knew for a fact that Peter would be a wonderful father; the young man was already bursting with parental love and kindness. Whether they would make good parents __together__, however, was an entirely different question._

Gabriel felt as if he were drowning within a sea of emotions. To make things right with Peter required him to face his vulnerabilities, not hide them. He had to think about what Peter was feeling..._and forget his own insecurities_. He had picked up the phone nearly a dozen times only to place it back down again. He kept remembering that the reason he had gotten into this mess in the first place was because he hadn't given Peter the space the young man had asked for. No, Gabriel needed to put his own needs aside..._he needed to be completely selfless in this situation_...and he had to wait for Peter to come back to him when the latter was ready.

_If he would ever be ready to come back again_. Gabriel pursed his lips together, passing a hand over his eyes as he returned to the front desk. He sat down on the swivel chair behind his cash register and picked up the book he was currently reading, _The Red Badge of Courage_. He had read it before, but it seemed oddly fitting to reread in his current state of emotions. Reading had always been a means of escape for Gabriel, and now was no different. The novel's protagonist, young Henry Fleming, reminded Gabriel of himself. The young man had hoped to be a hero, but instead he had been a coward and had deserted his comrades in battle. Only in the very end, did Henry find the bravery needed to stare death in the eye and continue to press forth. Henry finally learned how to be brave by the actions of his wounded soldier friend..._just like Peter, wounded in both heart and spirit, had taught Gabriel how to be brave._

"_In despair, he declared that he was not like those others. He now conceded it to be impossible that he should ever become a hero. He was a craven loon. Those pictures of glory were piteous things. He groaned from his heart and went staggering off." _ Gabriel pressed the book closed, his eyes slipping shut as well. The words resonated from the pages and he knew he was still just a coward. He didn't want to face the world without Peter...he didn't want to experience a life in which Peter _wasn't _his guiding force.

He missed Peter. He wanted so badly for Peter to just call him, to say it was alright, to know that _of course_ Gabriel would never wish to hurt the young man or mean any of the terrible things he had said. Gabriel's eyes opened once more as he delicately touched the cover of his book. The red badge of courage stood for the wounds that soldiers receive in battle. Peter had received many..._and how many of Peter's red badges had been pinned to him by Gabriel, the latest the most shameful of all because now he was supposed to care for and protect Peter only._

"Gabriel!" A youthful, cheery voice exclaimed excitedly, shaking him from his thoughts. "I didn't know you worked here. Nice shop."

Gabriel glanced up to find Jennifer standing before him; dressed in a lilac blouse and short, black skirt as she leaned over his countertop and watched him with big, green eyes.

"Jennifer." Gabriel nodded, placing his book down to the side. "How are you?"

"I'm good." Jennifer gave him a bright smile, her arms twisting awkwardly behind her back as she continued to lean forward. "I was just hoping to pick up a new book an' all, and what do you know...I run into you."

"Yeah, small world." Gabriel conceded, rising from where he sat on his swivel chair. "What kind of book were you looking for?"

Jennifer gave a small blush. "Do you happen to have any romance novels? I've been a little under the weather recently, and nothing goes better with chicken noodle soup."

Gabriel gave a small nod..._but inside he was a bit disappointed. Romance novels were not the best the literary world had to offer, but Peter had suggested he keep a few in stock due to the fact that 'girls like them, and they're your customers too'. _"Of course, follow me."

Jennifer dutifully fell into step behind Gabriel's long strides; she quickened her pace in order to walk beside him. "So, how's Peter doing?"

A small frown quirked Gabriel's lips_. _"He's fine." He settled on lying, as they rounded the corner together.

"Are you guys roommates?" Jennifer asked, trying to keep her voice conversational, but Gabriel felt curiosity surge through him as he noted her slight pressing tone.

"No." Gabriel replied, quirking an eyebrow in her direction. "Here's the romance novel section." He added, waving his hand towards the book shelf. "Are you looking for a particular author or...?"

"Nope, just browsing." Jennifer shrugged, as she picked a book off the shelf at random. She leaned up against it and thumbed through her novel; this one had a particularly muscular man holding a woman with flowing, brunette hair tightly in his arms. She cocked her head to the side, "So, Peter seems like a nice guy. How long have you known him?"

"For a while now." Gabriel admitted, seeing that he hadn't perused this section in some time. Things were terribly out of place and needed fixing.

"Has he always been the Good Samaritan type?" Jennifer smiled, continuing to page through the novel as if seeing if it was to her liking.

"Yeah, pretty much." Gabriel sighed..._he didn't like talking about Peter so much. He was still saddened and it hurt to remember how much he did indeed love the young man at the moment; all of her words bringing back memories of the good times they had shared._

"So, what's the deal with him? He's just really that sweet or is there a catch?" Jennifer pondered, nonchalantly. "You an' him are close, right?"

Gabriel crossed his arms across his chest as he leaned his head to the side._ Obviously she had a crush on him, but she was still just a baby, didn't she see that? Peter was a man and wanted a mature relationship. _Gabriel winced slightly at his own thoughts as he answered, "You seem to ask a lot of questions about Peter." He flipped two of the romance novels in the shelves around so that they were in alphabetical order according to author. He then added jokingly, "Anything you'd like to know about me?"

Jennifer flopped down on the stool that sat next to the shelf as she opened the book to somewhere in the middle of it. "Well, it's just that he helped me an' all and..."

"Yes, I know he helped you move in." Gabriel turned back around to face her, trying to search for something that Peter might say in order to let her down easy. _He was capable of empathy, he knew he was...he just needed practice. Well, now was as good a time as any. _"You know, Jennifer..." He began, sinking his hands deep into his pant pockets.

"You can call me Jen." Jennifer replied, cheerily, her face bright with enthusiasm.

"Right, Jen." Gabriel gave a small nod and smile. "Peter's...seeing someone." _He didn't want to say it was him...Peter wouldn't have wanted to make their relationship public, and Gabriel suddenly had a strong urge to respect that out of consideration to the fact that he and Peter weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment._

But to Gabriel's surprise, Jennifer didn't look as if she was disheartened by this news at all. Instead, she nodded in complete understanding.

"Yeah, I heard you guys going at it a few days ago." Jennifer admitted, brushing some stray hair out of her face. "It got pretty loud...sounded like my mom an' my stepdad."

Gabriel felt his face burn with uncertainty. "Going at it?" _Oh, god what did that mean? Peter was so damn loud during sex...probably the whole apartment building already knew._

"Yeah, you guys had a bad argument, right?" Jennifer questioned, her bright eyes brimming with curiosity. "Is everything okay between you now?"

Gabriel took a step backwards in confusion..._wait; did Jennifer already know that he and Peter were a couple? By her tone and the way she had brought the subject up after Gabriel had mentioned Peter 'seeing someone' he gathered that she did. Apparently their last argument had sounded every bit like the lover's spat it had been._

"Yeah, everything's fine." Gabriel replied, somewhat distantly. This conversation had taken a rather surprising turn, and he was uncertain how to handle it. "Um...if you need anything else, I'll be at the front..."

"Okay, thanks." Jennifer smiled, cheerfully, settling down with her novel in hand.

Gabriel made his way back to the front desk, furrowing his eyebrows thoughtfully at Jennifer's words. Her insistence of Peter was curious; her knowledge of their relationship was slightly as well. He supposed their argument had been rather loud and revealing and Jennifer was only right down the hall. _Anyway, it didn't really matter_. Gabriel decided, as he began to straighten up his desk once more. _It only served to remind him of the heartache he had tried to push out of his mind the past few days._

Gabriel opened his desk drawer...there was a picture of Peter with his arms crossed over his chest; a shy, lopsided smile painting his dark features. His head was slightly titled towards the ground but his intense gaze arrested the camera. Gabriel felt a pleasant shudder go down his spine; Peter had finally relented and allowed Gabriel to take a picture of the young man to keep at work. Peter had been shy during the whole process, seemingly bashful at the thought that the picture was simply for Gabriel to have and to hold as his own. It made the final photo all the more endearing however...the light blush that dusted Peter's face was very sweet.

"_What are you gonna do with this picture?" Peter had only half-teased, his arms firmly wrapped across his broad chest, his eyebrow arched playfully._

"_I'm going to keep it at work, so anytime I think of you during the day...you'll be there." Gabriel gave Peter an encouraging smile as he raised the camera back to his eye. "Now stop asking questions and smile."_

_Peter glanced down at the floor; his eyes firmly focused towards his feet. A smile quirked his lips as his dark hair slipped down his face._

"_Peter..." Gabriel insisted...he needed those hazel eyes looking at him._

_Peter glanced up at him and there was a gentle fire blazing in his eyes. At that exact moment, Gabriel snapped the picture._

"_I love it." Gabriel smiled, looking at the final product. "This is the first photo I have of you that's all __mine__."_

"_Then I want one of you." Peter insisted, trying to reach for the camera as Gabriel moved his arm to keep it out of reach._

"_Why not?" Peter huffed, placing his hands on his hips._

"_Because..." Gabriel waved his hand, dismissively. "I've never liked having my picture taken."_

"_Then let's take one together." Peter replied, finally grabbing the camera out of Gabriel's hands. "C'mere."_

"_No." Gabriel shook his head quickly, trying to move so that he was out of the other man's reach, but Peter followed him determinedly._

"_I want one." Peter replied, ardently and Gabriel felt his stomach swoop as Peter wrapped one arm around his waist and pressed fervent lips against the other man's; the small flash of the camera the only indication that a photo had been taken._

"_Cheater." Gabriel retorted at the young man; earning a small puff of warm air against his lips from Peter's chuckle._

_Peter pulled away, a dark and purposeful look shining in his eye. He glanced down at the picture, a bright smile spreading across his face. "This one's mine. I like this one."_

_Gabriel peered over Peter's shoulder, a pleasant sensation churning within his stomach. Peter had captured both their faces nicely...lips mashed together...eyes fluttered shut in concentration...faces intent with sensations._

"_I...I like it too." Gabriel decided, quietly. But inside he was roaring with approval._

Gabriel gave a small smile, wondering if Peter was ever looking at his picture too. It seemed unlikely..._Peter had been so angry with him and this time Gabriel knew he had truly made a mess of things. _Still...Gabriel touched Peter's face in the photo lightly. This was the only picture of Peter that was Gabriel's alone. No Nathan, no Angela, no Arthur, no messy memories tied to each one..._just his own peaceful recollections because he had actually __been__ there._

Nathan's memories were beginning to haunt him again_...but that was only because Gabriel knew he was letting them. Whenever they'd surface into his head, he'd follow them to conclusion rather than trying to focus on something else like Peter used to tell him too. It was because they connected him to Peter...it was because without them he felt even lonelier...because somehow he had to make sense of the strange thread that interwove between himself and Peter...and Nathan too._

Gabriel continued to lightly caress Peter's face in the picture. _He wished he could touch Peter's real face again...skin so warm and soft to the touch...the stubble on his chin so rough and enticing. _He had been dwelling on Nathan's memories recently, trying to desperately stall his own. His mind was fast approaching that day...that fateful day that changed everything. _The memory of killing Nathan was as fresh now as it had been almost a year and a half ago._

Peter...Gabriel had first met Peter when the young man was twenty-six years old. And yet, he knew everything about the other man since..._since he had still been in Angela's womb._

"_I can feel my little brother kicking!" Nathan had exclaimed, his ear pressed flesh against Angela's full belly._

_His mother gave a small, gentle smile as she said, "Now, Nathan. We don't know that the new baby is going to be a boy."_

"_It's a boy, I can tell." Nathan smiled broadly; his head moving up and down with the movement of his mother's breathing. "He's strong when he kicks."_

"_You're going to help mommy with the new baby when it comes." Angela replied, gently touching either side of her stomach as Nathan continued to feel the new life from within. "Because you're going to be a big brother soon, right?"_

_Nathan pulled away and gave an excited nod._

_Angela gave a soft smile before continuing, "Big brothers have a very important role, Nathan. You're going to help the baby to grow and learn."_

_Nathan patted his mother's stomach gently, feeling for any more movement from his unborn sibling. "I'm gonna be the best big brother ever."_

"I'm gonna buy this." The familiar, cheery voice interrupted, and Gabriel jerked his head up to see Jennifer pushing the romance novel over the desk and towards him.

"Oh...right." Gabriel stumbled, placing Peter's picture down on the table. He picked up the book and turned it over, looking for a price. "So you found everything you were looking for?"

Jennifer gave a small nod, glancing down at Peter's picture curiously. "Things still aren't good between you guys, are they?"

Gabriel followed her gaze; embarrassment flooding him as he snatched the photo off of the counter and shoved it back into his desk drawer. "It's...complicated at times." He cleared his throat, growing uncomfortable. "That's...um, nine dollars and fifty cents please."

Jennifer reached into her purse for her wallet. She glanced up once more at Gabriel and gave him a shrug. "You know, when I dated Mike Rizzo and he'd get mad at me, I'd just make him his favorite meal an' we'd kiss an' make up in no time."

"What?" Gabriel demanded, squinting his eyes uncertainly. "Who's Mike Rizzo?"

"He was my boyfriend when I was sixteen. We had home economics together. " Jennifer explained, as if this story made perfect sense. "He was a hotheaded Italian too; so I can relate."

Gabriel gave a frustrated sigh as he accepted Jennifer's money. He pursed his lips in slight annoyance as he replied, "Thank you, Jen, but I think what I have with Peter is slightly more complex than whatever you and...Mike Rizzo from home economics shared."

"Look, I'm just sayin'." Jennifer smiled, accepting the book back from Gabriel's grasp. "Sometimes all it takes is a little effort to get back on track. I mean, I saw you all sad and lookin' at his picture so I thought I'd help out."

"Well, thank you, but I'm alright." Gabriel responded, trying to keep the rough edge out of his tone. _She was only trying to help, after all._

"Thank you for the book." Jennifer, reached out to gently pat Gabriel's hand; shouldering her purse as she turned to leave. "Say hi to Peter for me."

"Yeah, sure." Gabriel grimaced at the awkwardness of their conversation. _Still...something was pestering him in the back of his mind. What Jennifer had said to him...sometimes all it takes is a little effort to get back on track. Was Peter waiting for Gabriel to make that little effort? Would bringing him something...such as a warm dinner of cannelloni...be enough to smooth things out? Jennifer had seemed so certain...and her relationship with Mike Rizzo might've been a healthier experience than Gabriel had known thus far and perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss her._

Gabriel reopened his desk drawer. Peter was smiling up at him; beautiful hazel eyes piercing into his own. _Gabriel didn't know how to make cannelloni. But Jennifer...she did._

Gabriel lifted his dark gaze to burn into where Jennifer had just stood; the door now closing behind her as the shop's bell gave a small ring.

Fixing things with Peter was worth all the effort in the world.

_Peter may have been a gentle soul, but he had not entered the world peacefully. Angela had experienced a rather difficult labor, needing to be hospitalized for a few days leading up to her second child's birth. Nathan remembered visiting her, his father by his side. His father had been very harsh; yelling at Nathan roughly when he had thought the young boy had initially rushed to his mother's bedside too quickly and loudly. This had scared Nathan...he didn't like seeing his mother hooked up to so many tubes...her face was sweaty and clearly strained, her voice raspy whenever she spoke._

_Nathan recalled placing his ear once more to his mother's stomach...he remembered asking his little brother to come out...to come out so that Ma would be okay...so that Dad wouldn't feel so worried and upset._

_Peter had been born several days and a very intensive labor later. It was almost as if destiny knew that this one was to be special...throughout the ages, men of greatness often were birthed under circumstances of immense sacrifice and duress by their mothers._

_Finally, the little boy had been ushered into the world. Even then, things weren't easy...Peter had difficulty breathing on his own initially and had to spend his first day in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit._

_Nathan had watched his little brother hooked up to the ventilator...his tiny chest rising up and down with the help of the machine...Nathan felt tears prick his eyes, but he refused to let them fall, especially in front of his father._

"_Is he going to be okay?" Nathan asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice as well, but inside his stomach was in knots._

_Arthur had given him a sharp nod. "The doctors say he's going to be breathing on his own very soon. This is just to get him started."_

"_Is Ma okay?" Nathan pressed, worriedly._

"_Your mother's fine. She just needs her rest." Arthur reassured._

_Nathan pressed his hand up against the glass; determined to will his little brother to wellness. He was going to be the best big brother ever...and the little, tiny child before him was going to be okay...because Nathan wasn't leaving his spot at the window until that happened._

_Eventually, Arthur had made him leave...but Nathan had snuck back whenever his father became preoccupied by talking and caring for his mother._

"_God's not punishing us." Arthur had insisted, taking Angela's hand into his own. "The doctors already said he's going to be fine..."_

"_I haven't even held him yet..." Angela had murmured, a strange dejectedness both reaching her eyes and deadening her voice._

_Nathan had run back to the window outside the Care Unit. "You need to get better." He urged, pressing his hand back up against the glass. "You need to get better, okay? C'mon."_

_He had stayed there for hours, until Arthur had found him again and they had to return home for the night. But Nathan hadn't slept at all; his thoughts only with his little brother back at the hospital. Something that small needed help...needing defending..._

_He was relieved and delighted the next morning to find the baby finally snuggled up in Angela's arms. She was smiling brightly, holding up the child for both Nathan and Arthur to appreciate._

"_Isn't he beautiful?" She murmured, touching a hand to the small tuff of dark hair on the baby's head. "The doctor says he's doing fine..."_

"_What's his name?" Nathan demanded, excitedly, leaning over his mother's bedside railing to get a good look at the small boy. He was all red and wrinkly...and not quite as beautiful as Angela had proudly proclaimed...but he was soft and small and had an air of deep vulnerability to him that struck a chord with Nathan. There was an overwhelming protectiveness that had suddenly flooded the young boy for the first time in his life._

"_His name is Peter." Angela replied, cradling the baby to her chest._

"_Peter." Nathan repeated, softly._

"_We named him after Grandpa." Angela continued, speaking of her own father as she looked up to catch Arthur's gaze with her own. "And my favorite bible verse, Matthew 16:18."_

_The baby gave a sharp cry and Nathan gave a small frown at the sight; Peter's lips appeared a bit lopsided as he wailed._

"_What's wrong with his mouth?" Nathan questioned, trying to climb up onto the side of his mother's bed to get a closer look._

"_There's nothing wrong with it." Angela insisted, quickly. "He's beautiful and healthy and that's all that matters."_

_Nathan gave a small nod in agreement, although he wasn't sure he still fully understood. But that didn't matter, and he eagerly held out his arms in a pleading manner. "Can I please hold him? Please?"_

_Angela gave a small nod as she began to move the tiny bundle over into Nathan's outstretched arms. "Be gentle now...and support his neck..."_

_Nathan felt the warmth of the newborn child press up against his chest as he cradled Peter carefully in his arms. Nathan smiled down broadly at the baby. "Hey, Peter. I'm your big brother."_

_The baby's big, grey eyes broadened in recognition and Nathan felt his heart swell within his chest. Peter remembered his older brother...he remembered hearing Nathan's voice from when he was just growing in Angela's womb._

"_He knows my voice." Nathan smiled, happily...he looked up to see Angela and Arthur share a grin...likely at his childlike naivety, he realized later in life. But at the time he had been completely certain...Peter and he had been connected since before they had ever even laid eyes on each other. Nathan had known Peter was a boy...Peter had heard his voice...had heard Nathan plead with him to be born...had heard Nathan's encouragement as Peter had originally struggled to breathe._

"_I love you, Pete." Nathan murmured, and the small gurgle the baby voiced in return was almost a certain affirmation that Peter loved him too._

Gabriel wiped at his bleary eyes quickly. He knew what verse Matthew 16:18 was of course.

_Now I say to you that you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and all the powers of hell will not prevail._

Angela had named him Peter for a deeper reason..._much like Gabriel had been named for the angel_. In Angela's nightmarish world of all-corrupting powers and selling your soul to the devil, Peter was the one thing that she could have that could remain innocent and untouched. _Her sweet boy that remained perpetually golden-hearted and unscathed from the powers of hell._

Gabriel wasn't exactly sure what Angela regarded as the powers of hell..._but he had a sinking feeling that he had a pretty good idea_.

Gabriel heard a clock chime from the far wall...he glanced up to notice it was closing time. Nathan's memories hadn't served to bring him much comfort...they only served to upset him further. _ Gabriel had cut the thread...there was no way to fix that._

But maybe all it takes sometimes is a little effort..._Peter loved cannelloni and Jennifer knew how to make that...and Gabriel could learn_...and even if nothing could ever be fixed...maybe it could be helped...slowly and surely and with empathy and effort on Gabriel's part..._he was sure he was capable of it, he just needed a little more practice...that was all._

* * *

Claire walked out of the boarding gate; her golden mane enshrouding her shoulders as a broad smile brightened her round face. Her big emerald eyes sparkled in delight and her slender form was clad in jeans and a black shirt with a large, white belt merely for fashion's sake.

Peter felt himself match his niece's wide smile; quickening his pace to meet her and help take her two large suitcases off of her hands..._Peter gave an inward smirk, she was only staying for the night. It reminded him of whenever his mother would go somewhere when they had been younger and on vacation. Arthur had always demanded to know why they were taking all this 'crap' with them simply for the weekend, but whenever Angela explained that she wasn't leaving without it, he bent to her wishes._

"Peter!" Claire exclaimed, dropping her luggage by her sides and racing over towards her uncle's outstretched arms.

"Hey, Claire." Peter smiled, embracing her tightly in his arms once she reached him. He gave her a firm kiss on the top of her head. "How was the flight?"

"Terrible." Claire laughed, allowing Peter to take one of her luggage from her. He had tried to take both, but she had stilled his hand lightly, intent to still carry one by herself. "I forgot how uncomfortable flying can be."

Peter gave a small smile, knowing she was also referring to the times Nathan had scooped her up and flown her away; usually in order to save her life from some danger. He responded by tapping her shoulder lightly, "Hey, you bring enough stuff?"

Claire gave him a knowing glance. "Barely." When he returned her statement with a quirked eyebrow, Claire continued with playful defensiveness, "Hey...it's not easy for us girls. We don't get to just roll out of bed."

Peter gave her a conceding nod and a soft chuckle. "Alright, alright." _This was nice; Claire always made him feel better. He could be her superman while still being incredibly human. She accepted him both ways. _"So you finished with classes and all?

"I am." Claire replied, giving a small sigh. "And no, I still don't have a clue as to what I want to do. I'm not so sure school is important after being the poster girl for the whole saving the world thing."

Peter gave a small nod. Claire was referring to the last time she and Peter had been involved in the superhero business. A carnival was being led by a very dangerous man with abilities who was intent on killing thousands, all as a means to punish ordinary individuals for their perceived crimes against him. Peter and Gabriel had stopped him and Claire had helped too, although she hadn't been made aware of Gabriel's role as of yet. By the end of the night, Claire had revealed her true nature to the world. She had only taken the risk on herself however, leaving Peter and others the opportunity to remain anonymous, for which Peter was grateful. _He just wanted a normal life now...to be able to save but not be in the spotlight. _Claire had done well with her new position, though, using it to be a Tony Stark of sorts from the comics _Ironman, _Peter had thought. She was a hero in her own right now; using her blood for regenerative properties for research into how to cure different diseases and in creating vaccinations. She also spent her free time saving random people from harm's way...her most recent exploit had consisted of pushing a child out of the way to avoid getting hit by a car...she had in turn been hit instead, but that hadn't phased her in the least. Being public with her abilities had helped her with that aspect of her hero duties, she previously couldn't have risked being seen healing.

"Yeah, how's that been goin' for you?" Peter asked, as they boarded the ascending escalator together. "You seem to be flying under the radar pretty well."

"People get bored of something after the first six months. My novelty has worn off." Claire gave Peter a small grin. "Since no one else with abilities has come forth yet, I think that people assume I'm an anomaly. They let me contribute to research...save the occasional college student who's about to jump out their dorm window during final exams...it's all working out."

"You're becomin' a regular American hero." Peter murmured, but he had to admit to himself that he was still worried about her. To the outside world, it might appear that Claire was invincible, but he and she were both all too aware of that particular power's weakness.

"You said that like my dad." Claire replied, raising a knowing eyebrow towards her uncle. She was referring to Noah Bennet, of course, the man having always been very protective of his daughter. "Don't worry; I haven't broken anything that can't be mended."

"Well, let's make sure it stays that way." Peter returned, a bit gruffly. He turned to face her, a serious expression painting his features. "I can't lose any more people I love, Claire."

Claire paused her walking, a sad smile finding its way to her pink lips. She placed a gentle hand to Peter's elbow. "I know. But _you're _the one that inspired me to do something with these abilities in the first place, so you need to just trust me, okay?"

Peter gave a stiff nod, although he wasn't completely sure he trusted Claire to always stay out of harm's way. "Okay, I trust you. But _you_ need to promise me that you're gonna be careful."

"Like you're always careful." Claire responded, teasingly. She pursed her lips as she studied his face carefully; they began walking forward once more. "I don't suppose you want to share with me why you're wearing those sunglasses."

"I got in a fight." Peter admitted, unable to ever outright lie to his niece. She had told him once that she couldn't bear the thought of him lying to her too..._not after how their parents had continuously lied to them...not after everything Peter and Claire had been through together, the two of them being the positive lights that were always burning in each other's lives. That couldn't be tainted by lies._

"Stopping some thug, right?" Claire pressed, touching his shoulder lightly.

Peter gave a small chuckle; but it sounded more like a scoff once it left his lips. "I guess you could put it that way."

"And _you _can't heal." Claire concluded, softly but weightily.

"True." Peter turned to face her; his lips finally giving her an easy half-grin. "Now that we're done interrogating each other and finding out that neither of us is being remotely safe, how about we drop the hero talk for the weekend and just focus on catching up?"

"Sounds normal." Claire smiled, her arm now coming up to link with her uncle's, drawing them closer together. "Deal."

Peter and Claire made their way out of JFK Airport and towards the busy New York City streets. Peter attempted to hail a cab as he turned once more to get Claire's attention.

"You hungry?" Peter asked, as a cab began to slow down for them. "We can stop and grab somethin' to eat."

"I'm famished." Claire smiled, helping hand the cabbie her luggage as the short, round man threw them into the trunk. "But I'm paying for my half, okay?"

"Nope." Peter replied, giving her a smile he knew she found slightly infuriating as they slipped into cab together. When Claire opened her mouth to protest, Peter silenced her by simply saying, "C'mon, Claire. Don't deprive me of taking my niece out to dinner."

Claire raised an eyebrow at him but she said nothing..._she surely knew that he was struggling monthly to make ends meet. Sometimes there was hardly any food in his apartment, sometimes his student loans didn't get paid on time, and sometimes he had to work double and triple shifts to make sure he covered his rent and utility bills for the month. But she also knew that while he was not a prideful man in the conditional sense...he did have a healthy amount of masculine pride and wanted to be able to be a provider._

Peter had settled on telling the cabbie to drive them to _Gina's_. It was a small little café that made some of the best calzones in the City.

The cabbie nodded before doing a double-take in his review mirror. "Hey..." He began, with a note of surprise. "Are you Claire Bennet?"

"Yeah, I am." Claire acknowledged, looking slightly apprehensive at being recognized once more.

But the cabbie simply beamed at the admission. "Right on." He exclaimed, nodding his head in approval. "I read about you savin' that little girl a couple days ago. And before that it was the three firefighters from that blaze, right? You know what...the ride's on me. It's not every day I get to drive a superhero around."

Peter gave Claire a small nudge as she thanked the man for his kindness. _Peter was proud of her. She __was__ a hero and she had certainly come into her own now. Peter remembered first saving her during that fateful homecoming...she was so sweet and innocent that night and although that hadn't gone away he was proud of what a mature and brave young woman she had finally grown into._

Soon, they arrived at _Gina's_ and the happiness and excitement of seeing each other again overtook them both as they hurried into the café. Peter was telling her that she _needed_ to try a calzone, whether she approved of the amount of calories that was in one or _not_.

"Fine, fine...I guess we're gonna live it up tonight." Claire teased, as she and Peter settled down into their seats at their small table.

"Now that's the spirit." Peter replied, smiling broadly, as he folded his elbows across the table. "So, what have you been up to this summer besides savin' the world?"

Claire gave a self-mocking roll of her eyes as she responded, "I am currently making Coney dogs at the Arlington Mall's _Coney Island_. It's all very glamorous work."

"Sounds like it." Peter gave her a teasing grin. "I take it you aren't exactly making money off of your donations to research."

"I didn't want to go public for the fame or fortune." Claire explained, seriously. She brushed some of her golden hair back into place. "I just wanted to help people...while finally being able to be myself."

"Hey, I admire the hell out of you." Peter nodded, folding the corner of his napkin subconsciously, a thought striking him. "How's your dad taking all of this?"

Claire gave a heavy sigh. "He's...how should I put this? _Less _than thrilled with what I've been up to. He says it's just a matter of time until some creep comes after me or some government agency kidnaps me for study. I've reminded him that I've already met plenty of creeps _and _government agencies and have come out alright...but you know him. He's not happy unless he's worrying about me."

"He'll come around." Peter replied, reaching out to touch Claire's arm lightly. He could tell that Claire's hope for Noah's eventual approval of her decision was a very real thing that she was currently going through. "Sometimes when people love us, they don't realize that in their effort to protect us they can actually be hurting some part of us that we need." _Like Angela's certain horror if she ever found out about Peter's relationship with Gabriel_.

Claire tilted her head to the side, a warm smile quirking her full lips. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"Just one of my many abilities." Peter joked, drawing his hand away once more.

Claire gave him a soft look before asking, "Speaking of abilities, which one are you currently using?"

Peter looked up at her in sudden surprise..._he couldn't lie to her, but how could he ever explain where he had gotten the ability to distort light? _He floundered for a moment, thankful when the waitress chose that time to approach their table.

"Welcome to _Gina's_, may I take your order?" The waitress asked, her hand poised to write on her notepad. Her large, blue eyes widened however at the sight of Claire. "Hey...are you Claire Bennet?"

Claire gave a small nod and the waitress beamed in response. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're actually here. I saw on TV how you saved that family from that train wreck. Look, tonight it's on the house, okay?"

"Oh, no that's alright..." Peter interjected quickly, not wanting to take advantage of anyone's good nature.

"No, no, no, I insist." The waitress then pointed at Claire once more, placing her other hand on her hip. "I pictured you a lot taller."

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Claire shrugged, her hands folding together over the table. She was still clearly uncomfortable with talking about herself.

After the waitress had taken their order and bustled off into the kitchen, Peter had turned back to face a clearly bemused Claire.

"Wow, I guess being related to a celebrity does have its perks." Peter smiled, bringing his water glass up to his mouth to drink. "I still feel bad though. I'll be sure to leave her a good tip."

"Well, of all people _you_ shouldn't feel bad. If people knew the half of what you've done, they'd be paying for all of your things." Claire replied, succinctly. "I mean, how many shifts do you work these days? Not to mention the fact that there's been a slew of news from New York concerning a mysterious nighttime vigilante that has helped rid the streets of crime."

Peter gave a small half-grin, biting his bottom lip as he did so. "Hey, what can I say, I guess I've been busy."

Claire nodded in agreement, even as she pulled her arms back to fold them over her chest. "Just don't forget that even heroes need a moment to catch their breath."

Peter chuckled, softly. "Even if you're Superman?"

"You are _not_ Superman." Claire replied, watching Peter with great amusement. "You're way better than him, and that makes you forget to take care of yourself even more."

"I guess I was just used to that always being someone else's job..." Peter replied, his tone lowering as he remembered the way Nathan used to calm him down from any emotional high; whether it was the upsetting or the enthralling. He winced at his words once they left his mouth, however, wondering if they sounded too self-pitying, but Claire's face simply softened in a tender understanding.

"I know it was Nathan's." Claire acknowledged, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And I know I live too far away to be here all the time, but for just this weekend it can be my job. I know you think of me as the little niece you still have to protect, but I'm not anymore. I'm your partner in crime and I can have your back just as much as you've always had mine."

Peter blinked back the sudden surge of overwhelming emotions that threatened to overtake him. He hadn't realized how tense he had been feeling lately until she had drawn attention to it. Suddenly all of the stress he had been carrying on his shoulders seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. "Thank you." He murmured, gently. "I've actually been feeling...pretty emotionally overwhelmed lately. I really needed to hear that, Claire."

"Of course." Claire outstretched her arm across the table. "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. Take my power, Peter. You don't have to hide under those sunglasses."

_She was offering him the opportunity to heal; to allow all of the marks of hurt and anger to simply mend and wash away. But she didn't understand...Peter needed to hold onto some of his scars. Wasn't there something to be said about a slow, methodical healing, after all?_

Peter gave a quick shake of his head. "No. That's okay. I want this...as a reminder. That I don't want a quick fix." He quirked his head to the side as his eyes darted up to meet hers, squinting slightly as they did so. "That I want to take the time to heal. So that I don't keep making the same mistakes over and over again."

Claire withdrew her hand, giving him a slow nod of her head. "Yeah, I know what you mean." She lowered her eyes towards the table, her voice growing a bit dry. "I know I wouldn't mind keeping a few bumps and bruises for the same reasons you've mentioned."

The waitress soon returned to their table, an odd amount of employees somehow following behind her, pretending that they were doing menial tasks such as washing the surrounding tables or refilling another table's already full napkin dispenser. Obviously, Claire's fame wasn't quite as unremarkable as she had previously let on.

"Here's the calzones." The waitress beamed, putting the plates down on their table. "Come back to _Gina's_ real soon, okay?"

"Thanks, we will." Peter acknowledged, taking his calzone in his hand and proceeding to take a large bite; cheese and pepperoni assaulting his taste buds. "Mmm...isn't this great?"

_As he spoke, his mind flitted towards unwanted thoughts of Gabriel. Gabriel would've loved this place...and Peter wondered why he had never taken Gabriel to Gina's before. He should've shared more with Gabriel...Peter used to be so conscientious of such things, what had happened? His mind was supposed to be uncluttered now by holding only one power at a time...why did he feel as if things were just as confusing and out of reach, especially when it came to his feelings for Gabriel?_

"You know what? It _is_ pretty great." Claire smiled, angling her shoulder forward in a pleased fashion. "I mean, disgustingly delicious calzones and spending time with my hero? This is living it up." She teasingly laughed, lifting her water glass towards Peter.

_There was some growing part of him that desperately wanted to take Claire up on her offer of wishing to care for him; of her being his partner in crime. If only he could tell her about himself and Gabriel. If only he could seek her advice on the matter or simply unload his troubled mind. But he saw the way she was looking at him right now...big, bright eyes full of love and admiration...and he couldn't stand to ever see that clouded by disbelief and disgust. Peter knew he hadn't been wrong in loving Gabriel...he had been there for every painful, strange, and wondrous moment of the five long years they had spent together and in that time Gabriel had indeed transformed into a man worthy of all of Peter's love. But still, how does one justify a dream to those who have never seen it in all its beauty? It's intense realism of sight, sense, touch, and feel...and only being able to sketchily detail it to those in the waking world._

Peter gave a small shake of his head..._willing the disquieting thoughts to go away for at least one night. _He raised his own glass to playfully clink against Claire's.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Special shout-out to Kessi38 for always leaving such nice reviews! Thank you! It definitely inspires me to keep writing. I also want to thank all of my other faithful readers. I would love to know who you all are and give all of you a special shout-out as well! Seriously, if this book is going in the right direction, wrong direction, or there is something else you would like to see feel free to leave a review or shoot me a PM :) Since I am writing this for you, I want to be sure that you are enjoying it or if there is anything else I can do for you in the story! **

**Chapter 20**

_Claire burst through the doors from where Sylar threw her. She broke a potted plant on the opposite wall before falling to the ground with a loud thud._

_Nathan and Peter glanced down at her in both trepidation and concern. Obviously, on one hand they worried if she was alright...but there was also a darker realization that she might also be Sylar due to the man's newly garnered ability._

_But Peter should've known better...Sylar would never face the young man in anything but his true form. After all, tradition had to be taken into account, did it not?_

_Claire simply gave her father and uncle a rather insistent look. "GO!" She shouted, and her command harkened back a time in which Peter had once yelled the same to her. It was interesting to watch Claire deliver the sharp, authoritative orders now...it showed how much innocence had been stolen from all involved over the years._

_Nathan and Peter gave each other knowing looks before turning to face Sylar. There was so much determination and unity present between the two brothers...they knew each other so well that to fight side by side now would be natural and fluid...it was annoying...__it made him jealous._

_Sylar was determined on keeping his face even and collected; a false calmness spreading across his features. His hands opened at his sides as they crackled warningly with electricity._

_Nathan's face darkened with determination but it was Peter's lip curl and sharp glare that let Sylar know that his main rivalry was forever with the youngest Petrelli. _

_Good, Peter. If you can't love me than you can just hate me. As long as you feel something we'll find a way to make this all work, won't we?_

_At that moment, Nathan and Peter simultaneously leapt into the air and flew towards Sylar. This took Sylar slightly by surprise...__apparently Arthur's taking of Peter's powers wasn't quite as permanent as promised. So here they stood before each other once more...Titans among the demigods. Good, the familiar was always a welcome thing. Sylar noted that Nathan merely had flight at his disposal, it was laughable that the man thought he even factored into this fight._

_Sylar decided to dispose of Nathan first...he was useless to Sylar now and he posed less of a risk than Peter did, if the young man did indeed have all of his abilities back._

_Sylar struck out his arm to unleash a torrent of lightening in Nathan's direction. It hit him full on; the senator crying out in shock and pain. At that moment, Sylar also used telekinesis to make the room's double doors slam shut...although he had promised Claire a frontcourt view of when he killed Peter, in reality; he had no such intentions at the moment. Indeed, Claire would only serve to get in the way since she couldn't be hurt or incapacitated during a fight._

_However, his split second decision to lock Claire out had cost him his focus...while he had been gleefully electrocuting Nathan simultaneously, Sylar had not been prepared for the moment that Peter had flown in and landed a rough, senses-jarring punch across his face. Peter's other hand thrust out to grab onto Sylar's arm as if solidifying the riveting contact._

_God, Peter was perpetually a nuisance. Did the young man delight in being the continuous thorn in Sylar's side? How could he fly in now...a dark growl emanating from his soft lips...as if nothing that had happened between he and Sylar had even existed?_

_I cared for you when we thought we were brothers. I tried to help you contain my ability. I tried to empathize with you. I saved your life when I should've let you fall. I killed your father so that you could be a hypocrite, lie to yourself, and get a good sleep at night. Remember any of that, Peter? Or are you so much better than me that you can't even acknowledge everything that I've done for you?!_

_It was at that moment that it all became too much. __Two years too much...two years too long__. Peter kept showing up in Sylar's life...__but only to taunt__...and Sylar couldn't take it anymore, his fragile psyche now splintering in pieces as Peter continued to tease him mercilessly...__to be so desirable but to be so hateful at the same time._

"_Peter!" Sylar roared, all of his pent up wants, desires, agony, and anger all flowing through him like water through a broken dam. The electricity flowed from his hands and rushed towards Peter's body...but Peter was quick and agile and easily evaded the flood of lightening._

_Sylar watched bitterly as Peter ran across the length of the room; a dark and perverse black mark scorching across the walls behind him as he did so._

"_No, no, no. Stop running from me!" Sylar cried out, a dark ardor grabbing hold of his soul. __If Sylar couldn't have him, then no one could. God, if Sylar killed Peter right now it would be in a fit of rage and passion. He wanted Peter so bad and he wanted to see Peter cry out in agony for all the times the young man had denied Sylar his love._

_Nathan came at him again but Sylar quickly lifted his other arm to throw the senator across the room and into a pillar, cracking it soundly. __No one could help Peter now._

_Sylar was mad in his desire to make Peter's skin burn...the room was slowly catching on fire from where his bouts of electricity had hit outlets. The room was beginning to fall into a chaotic disarray...feathers were bursting up into the air from exploding pillows caught in Sylar's rampage._

_Love me, damn you! LOVE ME!_

_Peter had run out of places to hide...__he wasn't using any abilities now and Sylar had a suspicion that Peter hadn't fully returned to his former glory.__ Sylar's next torrent of lightening rained down upon Peter with pinpoint accuracy; throwing the young man up against the wall before he slumped to the floor. His muscles contracted painfully on the ground; his jaw clenched together as he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned in pain._

_Oh god, yes. Peter would feel something. He would not be indifferent to Sylar any longer. The little angel would bleed for always withholding everything that Sylar had hungered for...god, Peter was the hunger. And Peter needed to burn now... to burn and cry out...and feel Sylar all around him...touching him, caressing him, burning him, electrifying him...Peter's dark, husky voice growling Sylar's name as a means of salvation...defiant hazel eyes blazing...sweet, imperfect lips parted with every rasping groan..._

"_How can you save anyone?" Sylar continued to crow, pouring every suppressed emotion out of his own body and filling Peter completely with it._

_Peter withered on the ground; his eyes moving up to meet Sylar's gaze. In the contrast of the blue lightening contorting his form; Peter's eyes seared a deep and dark brown...like the richest chocolate or a scarab beetle's shell. In an instant they could change; the lightening growing brighter and then so too did his eyes; now they looked like the churning brownish green of a sea caught in the eye of the storm._

_Peter. The wish to kill him was intense, to stop the chance that anyone else might have him rather than Sylar. But the wish to watch him fly away in order to torment Sylar another day was just as gut-wrenchingly desirable._

"_How can you save anyone, Pete?" Sylar spat, hoping to use Nathan's nickname for Peter as a means of throwing one last taunt in his face._

"_GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Nathan raged, and before Sylar had realized what had happened, he was being hurtled through the window...the older Petrelli brother having wrapped his arms around Sylar and then proceeded to throw the both of them out of the glass pane._

_Sylar cursed himself bitterly, he had allowed himself to become too distracted by Peter's presence, ignoring the real task at hand. __Again. Did it not always play out that way? All the powers in the world and they all fell prey to Peter as a weakness._

_It was time for Sylar to put one lesson Arthur Petrelli had taught him to good use. The irony that he would be using it against Arthur's own son was wonderful in itself, but Sylar had no time to dwell on that fact, the realization that Nathan could drop him at any moment hurtling to the forefront of his mind._

_He needed to focus on what made Nathan special. He needed to remember it all in his mind...the way in which Nathan had flown across the room...the moment Nathan had surged them through the glass...the takeoff...the flight...the propulsion...yes, yes...sawing open brains was a preferred means of feeding himself but undeniably crude. This told him everything he needed to know._

_He now knew what made Nathan's power tick._

_Sylar felt Nathan's hands begin to slip; but Sylar had no need to be held up by the man any longer. __He could fly on his own...fly without wings...he had always wished to fly._

_When he had been seven he had jumped out of the window of the first floor of he and his mother's apartment building. He had landed on a rock and had succeeded in cutting his shoulder open. He had always hated the sight of blood, but his high tolerance for pain had kept him from crying out. Instead, he had calmly tried to explain what had happened to his mother...but she had soon turned hysterical at the sight of the gash running across his small form. She had forbade him from even having his window open after that...a rule he hadn't obeyed very well._

_She never understood why he had jumped. It was because he had wanted to fly. He had watched the birds with dark, curious eyes. He watched them takeoff from their perches in the city skyscrapers...he had watched them make nests on top of the rundown Queens apartment tops...he had watched them soar across the sky...to fly far away and to never return._

_He didn't belong here...he was like a bird in a cage. As a child, he had always felt so sorry for those caged birds...one had lived with the old lady across the hall. Her apartment smelled terribly and she was hunched over and frightening to Gabriel's childhood mind. Her poor bird never sang. It just sat in its cage, wishing to be free, wishing to know what existed in the world far beyond its metal bars and indoor prison cell._

_He always watched the birds. He had thought that after watching them for so long he could emulate them. He could do exactly what made them special. He could fly._

_But instead he had fallen to the earth with a thud. He was not a free bird. He was not special. He was liked the caged bird in the scary old lady's house. The lady had eventually grown old and died...the paramedics had carried her out over two weeks later; the stench of her decomposition filling the entire complex._

_The bird had starved to death. It had never flown._

_Gabriel remembered sitting by his window, chin tucked on top of his hands as he watched the other birds fly. He didn't want to starve like the caged bird._

_But he now had a fear of falling...of failing. Maybe it was safer to stay in your cage...to stay and to hope and pray that someday someone might find you and slide open the door...to coax you out and to help you spread your wings..._

_And to fly away together and never return._

_Sylar used his mind to throw Nathan through the window...the older Petrelli brother smashed through the glass and went flying into the room's classical piano._

_Oh, god__. Sylar was flying. He was flying on his own...he hadn't needed anyone to teach him...to hold his hand...to fly by his side...__to love him back__. He was flying on his own! He had made himself great, damn the rest of the world, and soon he would even be president._

_Sylar slowly hovered down until he entered the room that Nathan was in. Nathan had quickly stood, coming towards Sylar with the same defiance Sylar had come to expect in the younger Petrelli._

_**Nathan had saved Peter. That was all that mattered. His younger brother needed to be the hero, needed to save the president...Pete was the good one after all, the one that the world needed in its darkest hour. **_

_**And more than that, Peter had been helpless in front of Sylar, only holding shape-shifting as a power. Nathan remembered awaking from his brief unconsciousness...seeing how Sylar had been burning Peter...had been hurting him...**_

_**Nathan remembered how as a child he had watched Peter struggle to breathe when his brother had only been a day old. The machine pumping Peter's small lungs...his tiny chest shuddering for air...**_

_**And Nathan knew he had to face Sylar on his own. **_

_**Because the day Peter was born, Nathan had made a promise to protect him. And Nathan had failed in so many of his promises...had watched as failure and disappointment had brought ruin to many of his hopes and dreams...but not today.**_

_**No, Nathan Petrelli had never seen himself as much of a hero. But he had always been Peter's hero...and today that's all that mattered.**_

_Sylar lifted his hand and cut it through the air; effectively slicing Nathan across the throat. Nathan stumbled backwards in shock as a dark, crimson gash appeared with thick pools of blood rushing forth._

_The decision to kill Nathan had been conscious and purposeful. Nathan, in reality, was nothing of course. The man was simply in his way but his death was of little consequence to Sylar. No, a deliberate point had been made with his actions just now._

_Angela had hurt Sylar. Now Sylar had hurt Angela._

_Claire had hurt him with her indifference. Now Sylar had hurt Claire with his indifference._

_Peter had denied Sylar love. Now Sylar had denied Peter what he loved._

_And now Sylar could become president...petty squabbles aside. The most powerful man in the world need not care for the likes of Angela, Claire...or Peter._

_Because he had taken from them something precious and so he was vindicated from his deeply buried need to somehow redeem himself in their eyes._

_Nathan choked on his own blood as he fell into the chair behind him. Sylar kept his gaze on the man, completely stone faced. Nathan bravely tried to stand again, to face his mortality on his feet, but he failed. Nathan gave a few last gurgles and groans...after a second more the familiar haze of death met Nathan's eyes._

_Nathan Petrelli was no more._

_Sylar gave a small, dark smile. In this moment, he chose to laugh at death...to shield himself from the dark and real fears that being mortal always brought him._

_If there was no God...he would be nothing. If there was a God...that God would make him stand trial...force him to relive the death of his mother...and so many others...before casting him into hell. No...he needed to laugh at death or else it may consume him somehow._

_After all, where had all his little special ones gone? Were they in him...had they disappeared...where had he just sent Nathan?_

_Sylar gave a dark laugh, a thought suddenly striking him. "Oh, Claire's going to be..." He felt his face sober as his voice grew tight and emotionless. "...so mad at me."_

_Why he had thought of Claire at that moment was so painfully obvious. The girl that couldn't die...who's power had allowed him immortality as well. The girl he had first so desperately sought for her ability...the girl who had brought him to Peter...to Noah...to Mohinder...to Hiro...to Angela...to Arthur...to his father...to Danko...to Nathan..._

_They are all disconnected from him now and he's glad. It's over._

_He gave Nathan one last cold look before turning into the fallen senator and then walking out the doors._

_Sylar had a date with destiny._

Gabriel hesitated outside of Jennifer's apartment door. He rubbed his sweaty palms nervously on his pants, preparing himself to ask for her help. He wanted to learn how to make cannelloni...something concrete in order to show Peter that Gabriel was indeed trying harder now. However, Gabriel had been waiting outside of Jennifer's door instead for a good few minutes, trying to work up his nerve. But being this close to Peter's apartment was also a bit disconcerting as he didn't want the young man to walk out and see him..._or Claire for that matter, who was staying the night with Peter if Gabriel remembered the date correctly._

Gabriel gave a gentle sigh; his lips pursing together tightly_._

_Tomorrow was Nathan's birthday and Gabriel was being plagued by the memory of the senator's death. He needed to fix things with Peter soon. He couldn't have Peter hurting anymore. He was determined to try harder within the relationship...to be the one to save Peter whenever Peter grew burdened and weary with constantly having to be the world's hero. It was a brave new world...Gabriel had gotten so lost in the past that he had forgotten to remember that...that he had a brand new day in which he could make himself a new man...he could make himself a new life and family with Peter...and ten years from now he could look back on his past memories and they could be filled with warmth, and love, and new purpose._

Bolstered by his more optimistic thoughts, Gabriel raised his hand and knocked loudly on Jennifer's door. He rocked back on the heels of his feet, casting anxious glances towards Peter's apartment down the hall. _He wondered what Peter and Claire were up to right now. They were probably having a nice evening, reconnecting with family and trying to prepare themselves and each other for the sorrowful remembrance of tomorrow._

Jennifer opened the door quickly, having obviously looked through her peephole first. She beamed at Gabriel, leaning up against her doorframe casually.

"Gabriel!" She enthused, a bit too loudly in Gabriel's opinion. "Good to see you again so soon. What's goin' on?"

"Can...can I come in?" Gabriel blurted out, a bit anxiously. _This was for Peter after all and it was important...Gabriel could afford to look like an idiot in front of Jennifer if needed._

"Um...sure." Jennifer decided, opening her door wide and watching Gabriel curiously as he walked without hesitation into her apartment. She clicked the door shut behind; shoving her hands in her pockets as she turned to face him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. "You...you said that...Mike Rizzo liked it when you cooked him his favorite meal. You know, after you two would argue. Right?"

"Yeah, I did." Jennifer nodded, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. "What _was _his favorite meal again? I think it was biscotti...or maybe Chicken Alfredo? Or sushi...hmm...sushi?"

"I don't really know." Gabriel replied, a bit tersely. He tried to remind himself to keep his patience..._to be empathetic like Peter was_. "I just know that...Peter's favorite dish is..."

"Cannelloni." He and Jennifer said at the same time, much to Gabriel's irritation.

"_Right_." Gabriel shook his head as he took in a deeply calming breath. "So anyway, I was wondering if...if you could show me how to make it." Gabriel felt his face flush slightly as he hastened to add, "_Please_."

"Oh, yeah." Jennifer nodded, happily as she headed towards her kitchen. "I'm sure I got the recipe in one of my drawers somewhere. I can lend it to you an'..."

"No, you don't understand." Gabriel insisted, his voice heading towards a sharper tone. He hesitated; blinking the harsher emotion away as he caught himself..._he couldn't let his frustrations get the best of him. It had been a long week without Peter but he couldn't take that out on Jennifer._

Gabriel decided to try again, being sure that his voice was more even this time. "I mean...no, I'd rather _see_ how it's done. I...I do things better that way." Gabriel held out his hand towards her beseechingly. "Jen, I know that this is kinda last minute and all but...I'd really like to make things up to Peter. And your cannelloni was really good...I enjoyed it."

"Really?" Jennifer smiled, swinging her legs around so that she was sitting on the barstool by her kitchen counter. "Aww, thank you, Gabriel. You're sweet."

"Look, I know you don't really know me very well." Gabriel continued, determined to get the help he so craved_. _"But could we make it together? I can't screw this up."

Jennifer turned to face him; her eyes registering a hint of surprise. "You want me to walk you through it? Wow...okay...um, I'm flattered but...you know what? Tonight might not exactly be the best time..."

"Jen, please." Gabriel pleaded, running his hand through his thick, dark hair to give it a small shake. "I need to make things right with Peter. He's a really great guy...you know that."

"Gabriel." Jennifer insisted, her lips trying to keep the perpetual cheerful grin she usually displayed...but Gabriel noted that it was faltering slightly now. "I'm really sorry that you an' Peter had such a fallin' out...but I don't really know if it's my place to..."

"I'll pay you." Gabriel replied, trying to cut off her less-than-encouraging words. "I'll make it up to you somehow." He glanced down at the floor, before lifting his gaze once more to meet hers. "Look, what you said in the bookstore to me about making an effort and trying harder? You were absolutely right. It's exactly what I need to do."

Jennifer leaned her weight back onto the counter and for a moment Gabriel thought he saw a softer and more fragile side of Jennifer slip forward..._from behind the mask...the mask Gabriel hadn't initially realized that she had been wearing._

"You really care about him, huh?" Jennifer asked, her arms coming up to wrap around herself slightly.

"I love him." Gabriel admitted, the words coming out of his lips as if they were being weighed down by led. _Still...something about his concession to Jennifer just now felt good...it felt right. _"He's the only person in the world who never gave up on me...even when he should've."

Jennifer nodded, slowly, her large, green eyes softening with thought. "I can show you how to make cannelloni. I mean, we can do it right now if you like. I just went shopping yesterday and I'm pretty sure I got all the ingredients."

Gabriel nodded, eagerly, his hands fisting together at his sides. "Thank you, Jen."

"Hey, it's nothin'." Jennifer shrugged, dismissively as she pushed herself off from the barstool so that she was touching the floor again. "What are neighbors for, huh?"

"I know I must seem crazy coming to your door like this." Gabriel continued, following her quickly into the kitchen.

"I've seen crazier." Jennifer replied, raising an eyebrow in his direction. She opened her mini-refrigerator to rummage through it. "Here, put this butter in a pan, we're gonna melt it."

Gabriel nodded, nimbly peeling the covering away from the butter. He felt a sense of hope rising up within him once more. "Peter was right, you are a sweet girl."

Jennifer quirked her lips to the side as she placed a pan out on her gas stove. "So tell me more about you and Peter. How'd you guys meet?"

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, wondering why it always seemed that Jennifer was so interested in his and Peter's relationship. She was helping him though, even though he probably had come off like a bit of a desperate lunatic, so he decided to give her the bare facts of the story. "We were different as night and day. He was everything beautiful in the world. Good and sweet and kind. And I was...not a very nice person."

"Really?" Jennifer pressed, curiously. "That doesn't sound like the guy I've met so far."

Gabriel felt pride warm his chest at her words. _He seemed like a nice person now...that was deeply heartening. _"Well, I've made a lot of changes. Peter, he saved me. He taught me how to be a good person. How to care about others now."

"So why the heck were you guys fighting?" Jennifer asked, turning the stove on as Gabriel placed the butter into the pan. "It sounded real bad from here."

Gabriel shrugged, uncomfortably. "Like I said, it's a bit complicated, I guess."

"My mom once said that love should never be complicated." Jennifer replied, as she pulled milk out of her refrigerator and added it to the melting butter. "But then she ended up with my stepdad, so I guess I shouldn't give out her advice to people, huh?"

"Your stepdad? What happened to your father?" Gabriel asked, watching Jennifer curiously with dark eyes as he stirred into the batter the flour she had handed him.

Jennifer scoffed, lightly. "Yeah, he checked out a long time ago."

Gabriel nodded, in soft understanding. _Empathy. It was rising up within him once more. It was the knowledge of understanding another person's feelings. It made him eager to share a little bit too...after all, he needed the practice. _"My dad left when I was young too."

Jennifer gave him a look of gentle understanding and Gabriel saw more of her mask begin to slip away. "Yeah, it's rough, but I got over it. But Mom never did, she seemed to think we still needed a man in our life. But we didn't...we didn't need her to bring Eugene home. I had no choice but to run away. I couldn't stay in that place another second with him around."

"Your stepfather?" Gabriel pressed, eyeing her knowingly.

"Here...whisk in the grated cheese. Careful, the batter's real hot." Jennifer murmured, watching Gabriel's hands closely as he began following her instructions carefully. "Yeah, I guess you could call him my stepdad. He's nothin' to me though."

"Well, you seem to be doing well enough for yourself though." Gabriel nodded, motioning to the apartment around them. "Brand new starts aren't always so bad."

"I used to tell myself that." Jennifer mentioned, her face darkening more and more..._the mask slipping lower and lower...the cheery disposition of before was all but gone at the moment. _"But what if then you realize that maybe you can only be what you always were? What if you can't ever escape that?"

Gabriel felt a wave of surprise at her words as he tried to suppress his body's wish to shudder at them. "I used to think like you. But then Peter showed me that I could change."

"Sounds like you owe a lot to Peter." Jennifer remarked, bending down to find another pot in her drawers. "But I can't imagine you ever being that mean of a person."

_Sweet, innocent girl. Gabriel liked that. Her words were bolstering something deep within him and he felt a surge of confidence as well as a sense of ease as he and Jennifer worked together to make the cannelloni. _

"I'm glad...it means I'm doing something right now." Gabriel smirked, contently as he pulled the pasta out of her pantry, opening it as he did so. "But sometimes I still struggle with doing the right thing. That's why Peter's mad at me."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you're tryin'." Jennifer shrugged, and Gabriel noticed that her bubbly attitude seemed to disappear the more she relaxed around him as well. "I mean, what more can he ask for?"

Gabriel stared at her resolutely, giving a shake of his head. He handed off the pasta box into Jennifer's smaller hands as he replied, "He never stopped believing in me, even when I didn't believe in myself. What more could _I_ ask for?"

_Talking and interacting with Jennifer was good. _Gabriel realized, being sure to stir the cannelloni mix as he watched Jennifer put the noodles into a new pan. _Speaking about Peter to a third party was somehow allowing Gabriel to see the whole relationship clearer than he had in months. He was so used to being in his little boxed up world...Peter the only other person he ever talked to, besides his customers fleetingly...and he wondered if that had made him lose perspective along the way._

"Does Peter like spinach?" Jennifer asked, interrupting Gabriel's thoughts. "I could add a spinach mixture inta this, but some people don't like it."

Gabriel paused, realizing that he wasn't exactly certain. He glanced away for a moment, trying to decide if he wished to dip into Nathan's memories for the answer. _He really shouldn't...but he did want to get this exactly right. _Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, allowing Nathan's recollections to wash over him. _Young Peter hated spinach...he used to feed it to Izzie, the Petrelli family dog, under the table whenever Ma or Dad weren't looking. However, Peter had grown up to enjoy it in certain dishes...Nathan remembered Peter eating a spinach lasagna when Heidi had cooked it for them._

Gabriel blinked his eyes open, giving Jennifer a short nod as he did so. "Yeah, it's okay."

Jennifer smiled, pulling the spinach out of the mini-refrigerator. She grabbed her cutting board and a knife as well. "Here, cut these inta really small pieces."

"Okay." Gabriel nodded, determinedly. "Like this?"

"Exactly." Jennifer grinned, sweetly, brushing her raven hair out of her eyes. "Tell me more about you an' Peter."

Gabriel quirked his eyebrow, curiously. "I really shouldn't bore you..."

"It's not boring. I adore hearing about people who are genuinely in love; it's like reading a good romance novel." Jennifer pushed herself up onto the countertop, her eyes watching Gabriel's face closely. "You mentioned he never gave up on you. Why you...why'd he care so much what happened to you?

Gabriel gave a small smile at the memory. He continued to chop the spinach, careful to make the pieces relatively even. "At first, he just needed me to help him to help others. That was all there was to it...Peter hadn't liked me very much at first. But then...something beautiful happened. I-I kissed him one day and..."_And those lips had been so soft, so carnal, so sensually erotic. They had tasted even sweeter than Gabriel had ever imagined. And Peter had released such a precious gasp when Gabriel had applied his own lips pressure against the young man's...and he had felt Peter pull away much too soon...but not before kissing Gabriel back._

Gabriel blushed, not realizing how his story had gotten so far away from him. _These were his private memories with Peter...and he didn't want to share them with anyone else. They were his and Peter's alone to hold onto._

But Jennifer had pushed herself to the edge of her seat. "_What_?" Jennifer demanded, reaching out to grab Gabriel by the shoulder. "You kissed him one day and what happened?"

"He came around after that." Gabriel shrugged, pushing the cutting board of chopped spinach closer towards Jennifer.

"Whatta tease you are." Jennifer replied, playfully. "I got to say though; I'm a little nervous now. What if my cannelloni doesn't work? What if Peter's still mad?"

"It'll work. All I have to do is _prove _to him that I'm willing to make the effort now..." Gabriel looked down at Jennifer in complete certainty. "And Peter will forgive me."

Jennifer's face grew sober as if she suddenly remembered something she had been trying to forget. "I know it's none of my business, but maybe Peter isn't as great as you think he is. I mean, no offense, but you make him sound like a saint an' all. Most people aren't that good."

_Her words seemed a bit off suddenly. She had always gone on and on about Peter as being her hero too...for merely helping her move her things into her apartment, no less...and something about her tone now rang hollow to Gabriel._

"I know Peter isn't perfect, but he's definitely better than _most _people." Gabriel insisted, resolutely. "And I'm going to fix this."

"I'd just hate seein' you get hurt." Jennifer replied, giving the taller man a sidelong glance. "People have a way of disappointin' you."

"Not Peter." Gabriel remarked as he busied his hands by mixing the cooking batter once more. "He's special. And when he forgives me this time...we'll be so happy together."

"My cannelloni recipe could be just that good." Jennifer conceded, twisting her arms awkwardly behind her back as she peered at the boiling water on the stove. As an afterthought, she mentioned softly, "You never know, I guess."

Gabriel and Jennifer fell into a bit of a hushed silence, working together side by side, Jennifer only breaking the quiet to give Gabriel directions as to how to prepare the food.

"Here, we need ricotta, eggs, parsley, salt, pepper, grated cheese and the spinach mixture we just made and we need to stir 'em all together." Jennifer explained, pressing the bowl up against Gabriel's wiry, broad chest. Gabriel gave a small nod, intrigued by the bright smile that suddenly worked its way onto the young girl's face.

"What is it?" Gabriel asked, raising an amused eyebrow at her.

"I dunno, its kinda fun. Doin' this together." Jennifer cocked her head to the side, thoughtfully. "I get real lonely sometimes. I don't know anybody. And not just 'cuz I moved...I never really had any friends back home either. Sure, I've dated a few guys, but just for kicks, you know? You were right at the bookstore...when you said that what you and Peter have is more real than anythin' I've ever had. Seriously, I'd kill to talk about a guy the way you've been talkin' about Peter tonight."

_And just like that the mask was gone. Gabriel was glad...she was more real to him now that she wasn't trying to cover her inner hurt and self-doubts with irritating fake charm and bubbly insincerity. He liked talking to this girl...the one that wasn't afraid to admit that she was lonely and afraid of never discovering true intimacy._

"Well, you're still very young." Gabriel pointed out, trying to feign some sort of wisdom for her sake. "I often felt that way at one time in my life too."

"You sound like my mom. I'm nineteen." Jennifer snorted, taking an egg from the carton and placing it into Gabriel's large grasp. "And I've been through enough that I'm not really that young anymore."

"Like what?" Gabriel wondered, quirking his eyebrow at her in slightly scoffing disbelief. He reached out his hand to take another egg from her.

"Like I used to not be a very nice person either." Jennifer replied, succinctly. "I used to do...a lot of really bad things."

Gabriel gave her another sidelong glance. _He doubted she understood what doing really bad things actually entailed_. "What kind of bad things?"

"I used to hurt people." Jennifer retorted, a bit heatedly. She seemed to be getting upset with how dismissively Gabriel was treating her words.

Gabriel gave a small, uncertain nod in her direction. _He didn't want to ask, but something inside of himself pressed him to do so. Peter would've asked, after all. _"Do you want to...I don't know...talk about it?"

_Maybe he could use a little of his own life experience to help comfort her. That would be a good thing to do...a nice thing to do._

But Gabriel was unprepared for the glassiness that suddenly clouded her bright gaze. She lifted the back of her hand to her eyes, making sure that none of her tears had fallen. "I don't know that there's anyone in the world who'd understand."

"Not even your mother?" Gabriel wondered.

"She's one of the people I've hurt." Jennifer pushed herself away from Gabriel, so that she was facing in the opposite direction. "Look, I appreciate what you're doing, but I've probably already said too much. I don't wanna freak you out with my problems. I mean, everyone's got problems right?"

_She seemed so small...so hurting...so vulnerable at the moment. She was just a baby...and Gabriel felt as if he could be a new person around her...a more grownup person than he was accustomed to being usually. She was struggling to find her place in the world...and he knew what that was like better than most_.

Gabriel always felt so childish..._so emotionally hopeless_...whenever it seemed as if Peter always needed to hold his hand. Maybe this was Gabriel's opportunity to prove that he could be someone older and wiser and a little more mature too, using his past experiences to help hold someone else's hand this time.

"I used to hurt people too." Gabriel ventured, softly.

His words seemed to have the desired effect on Jennifer, her body turning back to face Gabriel's once more. She raised another hand to her cheek. "You...you did?"

"And I used to do really bad things. I used to live by my own rules." Gabriel reached out an uncertain hand, placing it down on her shoulder. "And I lived that way for so long it seemed impossible to be anyway else. I...I wanted to be a hero, but I just kept being a villain."

"A villain?" Jennifer repeated, her eyes watching him with now intent focus.

Gabriel nodded, forcefully. "But I'm not that guy anymore. And you can let go of whoever you used to be too."

Jennifer opened her mouth to answer him, but at that moment the pot containing the noodles began to boil over with water.

The sound shook Gabriel back to reality..._the reality was that he had been Sylar...and Sylar was more terrible than anything a nineteen-year-old girl could possibly understand as doing 'really bad things'. Gabriel had just gotten dangerously close to revealing too much._

_After all, saying that he had been a villain was using distinctly alarming words to describe his past and he suddenly felt very foolish and nervous once more._

He stumbled away from her slightly, an apologetic grin uneasily working its way onto his lips, as he fumbled with the gas stove to turn the heat down.

In his haste to take attention away from his previous statement, Gabriel accidently wrenched the stove's dial off...the fact that it was also an older model and had most likely been installed a little over twenty years prior probably hadn't helped matters either.

"Oh...shoot." Gabriel looked up at her in shock, his cheeks burning with heated embarrassment "I'm so sorry..."

Jennifer snapped out of her slight stupor, waving his concerns away with her hands quickly. "Don't worry about it; it comes off all of the time." She took the dial back into her own hands and turned her attention towards the stove. She spent a moment working on it; her body angled away from him as if to conceal her actions. When she pulled away, the dial was forged on as good as new. "See? No harm done."

Gabriel quirked his head to the side in confusion; his jaw tightened as a sudden pit lodged its way into his throat.

_No harm done indeed...the stove was as good as new._

_But that wasn't how machines worked...Gabriel had never worked on stoves, but he knew metal parts reasonably well. Jennifer had done more than stick the dial back on...she had completely fixed it...healed it somehow..._

_Oh god..._

Something dark and hungry began to rumble inside of Gabriel as he blinked in furious disbelief. She had tried to hide it from him, but something about her actions..._something about the way the dial had been welded back on perfectly..._something about her previous words and about hurting people and doing bad things..._everything suddenly made so much sense. It all shone before him in crystal clarity...and it awoke something powerful and dangerous within the depths of his soul._

_He was still so hungry...he had just forgotten...feeding on Peter's love had distracted him more than he had realized._

"You have a power?" Gabriel whispered, his eyes widening in amazement.

Jennifer hesitated, and he was certain that she could feel the sudden heat that had surged through his form and radiated in her direction. "Excuse me?"

"An ability." Gabriel pressed, taking a purposeful step forward. "You're special, right?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about..." Jennifer began breathlessly, but she fell silent and gave a start when Gabriel stalked forward to roughly grab her wrist.

"What is it you can do?" Gabriel murmured. He shook his head, trying to clear his fogging mind, but at the same time he understood..._ he wanted to know. He needed to know._

Jennifer pursed her lips together before replying darkly, "I don't..."

_Special girl. Don't deny what makes you different. God, why hadn't he sensed it before...she had been near him for almost an hour now and he had felt such a sudden and strong connection to her in that time. It was that she was like him._

"I'm special too," Gabriel breathed out, his eyes darkening as he spoke his secret to her. "I can...I can move things with my mind."

He saw the small change in Jennifer's face...it grew lighter as if some terrible stronghold had been lifted from her being and now she could speak freely without fear. "You...you can?"

"Watch." Gabriel smiled brightly at her, releasing her wrist in order to turn towards her counter. He focused on the stove dial..._using the same object she had to reveal herself to him_. It twisted and turned with a mere flick of his hand..._he roared in approval at the sudden look of amazement that crossed her brightening face._

"See?" He pressed, rounding on her suddenly. She shrank back ever so slightly, but he found that he hardly noticed..._his heart was slamming up against his ribcage and blood was pounding in his eardrums. _"Now tell me...what is it you can do?"

Jennifer looked around the room uncertainly before lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. "I...I dunno exactly. I think it's somethin' like...like controllin' magnetic fields. You know, like Magnetofrom _X-Men_."

Gabriel swallowed heavily; his throat restricting uncomfortably. _Why was he asking her these things? _A pestering little voice demanded. _What did he want with the information? He needn't any more powers...he was quite content with what he had...and Peter wasn't here...he needed to remember that Peter wasn't here to stop him for doing anything he'd likely regret..._

"I just realized it one day...when I was thirteen." Jennifer continued, taking a step closer to Gabriel's form. _He could hear her heartbeat throbbing too...she was suddenly so warm...so warm and so filled with rich, pulsating blood and power._

"I can...do anything with metal, anything with magnets. I used to...I used to be able to steal coins from the other kids for lunch money. I used to be able to manipulate ATM machines and take the cash inside." Jennifer was standing so close to him now; her voice so low that her lips barely moved as she spoke. "And I can...I can create my own magnetic fields around myself. I could protect myself from my stepdad whenever he tried to beat me. That's...that's how he found out about me in the first place."

A large sense of relief washed across her face; as if this had been some terrible secret that had weighed against her psyche for much too long. Speaking of it had seemed to release floodgates of information...Gabriel hardly knew if she was finished with her story...one side of her ability having intrigued him more than anything else she had mentioned.

_Magnetic fields. Gabriel wanted very much to know how that worked...he could create a magnetic force field around himself and Peter whenever they ventured out at night to be heroes...that way he could protect Peter and always keep the young man safe from harm...or bullets. If only he knew how her power worked...and then he could finally protect Peter..._

Gabriel hesitated, the room suddenly feeling as if it had been sucked of both air and warmth, a chill hitting his body as his lungs constricted within his chest.

_Peter. Oh, god...Peter._

"Don't tell me anymore." Gabriel gasped, swallowing profusely as if to do so would somehow bury the sudden and overwhelming urge to feast again. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes darting around the room wildly as he took several steps back. "I...I don't need to know anything else. Thank you though."

"I'm...I'm sorry." Jennifer wrapped her own arms around herself as if to mirror Gabriel's sudden and inexplicable actions. "I didn't mean to weird you out..."

"No...it's just that..." Gabriel shook his head quickly, bringing his hands up to clamp tightly over his ears as if to drown out any further temptation.

_He would keep control of himself...Peter had sacrificed too much in order to give Gabriel a second chance at life. Peter had gone against nature in order to help Gabriel...he had pushed aside the ever-haunting fact that Gabriel had murdered his own brother...had torn apart the Petrelli family...despite all of that, Peter had befriended Gabriel...had loved Gabriel._

_And even without Peter...Gabriel wanted this for himself. He wanted self-control. He wanted to feel satisfied in life. He didn't want to cause anyone else the hurt he had seen Peter go through. Gabriel was finally starting to be at peace with himself...and even without Peter in his life, Gabriel wanted that feeling to never go away._

Gabriel brought his trembling hands back down to his sides; noting the deeply troubled look that had struck Jennifer's soft features.

"I-it's -your...your p-power." Gabriel whispered, trying to force a shaky smile onto his face. "It sounds w-wonderful, Jen...and I think you should keep it a wonderful s-secret as to how it w-works."

_Yes, he could take her power without killing. But that would be wrong too. He needed to learn to be satisfied with what he had. He needed to allow others to enjoy what made them special without him taking it and hoarding it for himself along with all the other's that had never rightfully belonged to him._

"Wonderful?" Jennifer hissed, in disbelief. "It's been nothin' but a curse. It turned me inta a rotten thief a-and...and then once my stepdad found out about it...he made me _use_ it. He made me rob banks...he made me rob people's houses. He _hurt_ people if they got in our way. He hurt my mom if I refused. You talked about bein' a villain..." Jennifer let out a small, choked sob, her fist suddenly coming up to press into her lips. "_I was a villain_."

Gabriel watched her with large, dark orbs...his breathing growing shallow as he gave a slow nod of understanding. He wanted to take a step forward and place a hand on her shoulder..._to comfort her_...but he didn't trust that he was ready yet.

"So that's why you ran away from home." Gabriel replied, softly, his eyes drifting down towards the floor. "To escape the terrible things he made you do?"

Jennifer sucked in a deep breath, her voice growing rough and shaky..._but Gabriel sensed an urgency in her to have everything come out at once...the dam had broken open...her carefully constructed mask now shattered to pieces._

"The last job was some rich guy's place. It was a big mansion over in Long Island...I could disable the security system. I could hack inta the vault. I could place a magnetic field around us, makin' us invisible. I was the perfect criminal." Jennifer made a face, a few tears dribbling down her cheeks as she continued to speak. "I didn't _wanna _do it. I used ta just steal from kids, you know? Like when mom an' I were really strugglin'. And yeah, I took from some ATMs. It was wrong...but I wasn't hurtin' other people. Not like, real seriously or nothin'. It was just fer me an' my mom...ta help her."

Jennifer let out a shuddering breath, her chest starting to heave. "Anyway...at the mansion...the rich guy's wife was home. I couldn't keep us invisible an' hack the safe at the same time...it doesn't work like that, I dunno why. So I told Eugene...we better go...we better go...but Eugene..." Jennifer squeezed her eyes tightly together, as if trying to wish the horrible memory away. She clenched her teeth, her words rasping out of her as if fighting her all the way, "Eugene...k-killed 'er. My, god...it was the first time we _killed _somebody. An' that was it. That was it...I took off after that. I was done..._done_..."

Jennifer buried her face into her hands as her form gave a few heaving shudders. "I don't wanna be the villain anymore."

_I don't wanna be the villain anymore._

Temptation never goes away...but one can fight it if they truly care...if they truly care about something more than the hollow victories said temptation offers..._if they care about their relationship with a good, loving man...if they care about not hurting others...if they care about not being the villain anymore._

"Jen, believe me when I say that I know the pain you're feeling right now." Gabriel whispered, and he suddenly felt strong enough to reach out and touch her elbow. _The contact seemed to have a soothing effect on her...her tears had stopped leaking out from between her fingers. _"You feel as if you're completely unworthy of ever having anything good in your life ever again...you don't think that you deserve anyone's love...especially not the love of someone truly good and...and selfless." Gabriel closed his eyes, images of his sweet, smiling Peter rushing forth to reach out to him. "You're afraid to accept the fact that you've changed and now it's time to let go of that pain and realize that you're never going to be that...that person ever again. You're a...a hero now."

Jennifer slowly lifted her face back up and out of her trembling hands. "You're a good person, Gabriel. You deserve Peter...do you understand that?"

Gabriel nodded a bright smile working its way onto his face. "_You're _a good person too, Jen. You don't have to think of yourself as that monster anymore..."

Jennifer let out a bitter moan, her green eyes filling with sorrow and regret. "Oh, Gabriel..." She whispered, her tone edged with remorse. "I'm _so _sorry..."

Gabriel felt his encouraging words die on his lips, uncertainty..._and the tiniest bit of dread_...filling him over her last statement.

"Sorry..." He repeated, his arms coming back up to hug himself. "Why?"

"I...I didn't _know _you at the time!" Jennifer insisted, her arms coming up to indicate to Gabriel, wildly. "She said if I helped her that...that she'd pay for the apartment...that she'd make sure that I stayed off the grid so that my stepdad would never find me again."

"_What_?" Gabriel demanded, a familiar iciness taking hold of him.

Jennifer wiped her tears away, quickly, more surging forth at her sudden confession. "And she ...she said you were hurtin' Peter...and when I met Peter he was so _nice_...an'...an'...an' _you_...well, I didn't know what to think about you...I got so confused...but I had to stay hidden...a-and she was the only one that could help me...the only one that could help keep me away from my stepdad...from _hurtin' _people again! But this was before tonight...before I heard you talk 'bout yourself an' Peter... an' how much you _really_ love 'im."

"Jen...what are you talking about?" Gabriel breathed, a disbelieving smile working its way onto his lips. _Oh, god...he knew...he didn't want to be right but he knew he was._

"She wanted me to spy on you guys. I've been reportin' back to her. She _knows_, Gabriel. She knows about the fight...about you and Peter fightin' an'...an' the fact that you guys were livin' together..._I told her everything_."

"Who?" Gabriel shouted, reaching out to grab Jennifer roughly by the shoulders. "Who told you to do this, Jennifer?"

_But he already knew. He had always known that someday she would be back for him._

"Her name is Angela Petrelli." Jennifer replied, fear painting her brilliant green orbs. "I'm so sorry, but I swear that at the time I thought I was doin' the right thing..."

_Angela Petrelli. Gabriel didn't know whether to recoil in panic or to erupt in rage. She was back to kill him...to kill him for what he had done to Nathan. To kill him for what he was doing to Peter. He had always known, deep down, that she was never going to let him have Peter. She would've left him alone if he had left her family alone...but he had once more tried to take what didn't belong to him._

_But that was where she was wrong. Peter did belong to him...and only him._

The thought that Angela was once more trying to manipulate his life..._after she had done so twice already, both to devastating effects_...made something loud and primal roar deafeningly within his chest. He felt his heart slam against him again and again as his whole body trembled with a strange mixture of fear and overwhelming fury.

_And betrayal. Peter had always told Gabriel to try and find the good in others and the latter had tried to do so with Jennifer...only to find that his trust had been misplaced._

Gabriel felt the anger radiate up his arms as he gave Jennifer a rough shake; his hands still tightly encircling her shoulders in their grasp. "What have you done?" He hissed, watching as Jennifer shrank back in fright. "Do you realize what you've just done?"

"I'm so sorry." Jennifer exclaimed, sincerely. "I can try to help make this right though...I can tell 'er how much you love Peter...how you're a good person now..."

"Do you realize she wants to take Peter away from me?" Gabriel spat, his grip still not relenting. "That she won't stop until..."

Gabriel trailed off...his mind already working faster than he could speak. This was never going to end unless he did something about it. The Petrellis had never left him alone..._and now he was grateful that Peter never did_...but it made him realize all the more the tenacity the entire family had. If Gabriel kept seeing Peter than Angela would never rest until she either killed him or separated the two forever. And poor Peter would be so torn and hurt and frustrated..._and Gabriel didn't want that for the young man anymore. Peter had suffered long enough._

No, it was up to Gabriel to fix this..._to make things right_. He had to force Angela to acknowledge the fact that he had changed, that he was a good person now..._that Peter was forever and unequivocally his. That nothing would change the fact that her son loved him._

_He knew what he had to do. He had to fix this...it was broken and it needed mending._

"She's not going to take Peter away from me." Gabriel murmured, giving Jennifer a meaningful stare. "No...not once I explain everything to her. Peter and I...we belong together. And once I tell her that...she's going to accept it."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Author's Note: Special shout-outs to Kessi38, JediGirl, and GaaraHinataWake for their support and leaving super awesome, wonderful, inspiring reviews. :) I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter!**

_This was the moment that Sylar had been waiting for his entire life, the grandiose importance of his actions not lost on him as he walked determinedly towards the president's limousine...he had now taken the form of one of the president's aides._

_All he needed was one handshake from the Commander and Chief...and everything he had ever craved, ever desired, ever desperately hoped for...it would all be his to hold within the palm of his hand. He would finally be the most powerful man on earth...and this time, it would be real power. No one could ever stop him...no one could ever say no to him or ever deny him what he wished...never again._

_He entered the limousine eagerly...perhaps too eagerly, his usually tempering nature largely absent as all his life's goals were dangled tangibly in front of him. He sat down on the cushioned seats quickly, turning to tap on the window to indicate the driver to take him and the president away. The black privacy window rolled up as Sylar turned to address the president._

_The president was a sturdy, bald, dark-skinned man. He held a stern and commanding air about him. He wielded his authority well...and Sylar liked that. The tall, young man took a good long look, drinking in the sight of the man that was soon to be Sylar's identity from now on._

"_Thank God you're all right, sir." Sylar smiled, brightly._

"_The Secret Service did a hell of a job today." The president agreed._

_Sylar gave a small nod as he smiled. "And so did you..." And this was his big moment...he was saying goodbye to worthless Gabriel Gray forever...goodbye to everything he had ever hated about himself...goodbye to a life of loneliness and pointlessness and on to a life of destiny and meaning._

_He would be so special...and his mother would've been so proud of him._

_If only she could've seen him now._

_Sylar extended his hand; his stomach giving a pleasant leap when the president reached out to clasp it tightly within his own. It was a firm, solid handshake...but then, after a moment, Sylar noted that it was almost continuing a bit too long and with too much undue force._

_Sylar looked down at his hand curiously. He could feel himself absorbing a person's DNA...but something was not quite right...there was a stirring that something had gone wrong from within his gut now._

_But nothing could go wrong now. Not when he was so close...so desperate..._

_He decided to go through a range of personas, his trepidation growing. No, this wasn't right...there was a new DNA held within his power, but it was all wrong...he could feel the familiar thick, dark locks briefly touch his forehead...those soft, maddening lips becoming his own...no, he had absorbed the DNA of Peter Petrelli somehow._

_He continued through his host of characters...even becoming Nathan for the smallest of moments...before settling back on himself._

_Something was very wrong. The president's DNA had not entered his body at all. But Peter's had...Peter's had...__oh, god of course..._

_Sylar jerked his head up in dark understanding as he tried to remove his hand hastily, dismayed to see that the president was still grinning fiercely._

_The president roughly pulled Sylar forward and the latter's eyes widened in shock as the Commander in Chief then proceeded to shove a sedation needle directly into the area beneath the Sylar's chin._

_Oh, god. Not now...deep down Sylar knew exactly who it was...__who it always was__...but it still filled him with the same pulsating dread. It was his tormenting little demon...his vicious, spiteful angel...here to rob Sylar of his destiny once more._

_Sylar let out a small grunt, Peter's form appearing from where the president had once sat moments ago. Peter looked so horribly pleased with himself as a dark smirk quirked those full, warm lips. He yanked Sylar closer towards him...his breath hot and inflaming...his chest heaving with excitement as Sylar's followed suit with full realization and shock...that during their fight, Peter had absorbed the ability to shape-shift as well._

"_Betchya didn't think I'd take that one from you." Peter hissed, shoving the rest of the shot up into Sylar's neck with meaningful force. Peter's face was so cruel...so hateful...so denying...so beautiful..._

_God, Sylar wanted to kill Peter so badly. This had been Sylar's chance of a lifetime and Peter had raped him of the opportunity, drugging and discarding him._

_Sylar felt his eyes slip shut as his body became weightless beneath him. He wanted to choke the life out of Peter...to kiss the young man soundly until he could hardly breath...until Peter was gasping and moaning for air...those lips trembling to suck it in even as they grunted in the futile attempt...and then when Peter was sufficiently frustrated and suffocated...Sylar would shove a knife deep into Peter's gut...being sure to twist it ever so painfully as Peter was twisting the syringe into Sylar's neck right now._

_And Sylar knew, ever so poignantly, that he had never truly escaped who he was in the end. Over the course of two years he had run across the world in an attempt to lose himself and to become someone...__or something__...great, but Peter Petrelli...__and Gabriel Gray__...had always caught up with him in the end. He couldn't outrun his past...it was a smothering presence that refused to die...one could hold it under a pillow or submerge it underwater for as long as the liked...it never disappeared._

_He could deny Gabriel Gray's existence...forget that he had ever owned that name...but in the end that's all he was...it was the reason he kept failing...the reason Peter never looked at him with a hint of respect...it was the man who, at the end of the day, was all he ever really amounted to._

_He was just Gabriel Gray...but Angela Petrelli had other plans for him._

"Okay...which movie do you want to watch first?" Claire asked, holding the two DVDs that she and Peter had rented up for him to see.

"Well, let's get the romantic one out of the way." Peter replied with a small grin; he was moving pillows around so that the old, ratty couch he had recently bought appeared to be a bit more welcoming.

"It's a good movie, I promise you." Claire replied, slipping the DVD into the second-hand DVD player. It had been a gift from his mother...he hadn't used it as of yet though, the need to watch movies having been made obsolete in-between his job as a paramedic, doing vigilante work with Gabriel, and generally feeling as if his free time was devoted to getting a good night's sleep in order to start everything all over again.

But this was nice because it was so far away from all of those other things. This was just sitting on the couch at night, watching a movie with his niece, and for a moment in time, forgetting about all of the other demanding responsibilities that lay on his plate.

"I'm only watchin' this 'cuz I'm with you." Peter pointed out, as Claire plopped down on the couch next to him, her head leaning against his shoulder. "And the fact that I did doesn't leave this apartment, got it?"

"Oh, you're gonna like it, you softy." Claire replied, giving Peter a small shove with her own shoulder. "But I still can't believe you've never watched _Casablanca _before."

"I mean, I've heard of it_. _This is the one where everyone dies at the end, right? It's like a classic." Peter whispered, leaning his head closer to Claire's.

Claire looked at him incredulously before giving a disbelieving chuckle. "I can see that my work in educating you in romantic cinema is cut out for me."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Peter grinned, giving her a small squint of his eyes.

Claire grabbed the popcorn bowl off of the floor and held it in her arms, lifting it briefly for Peter to take a few pieces. Peter grabbed a handful and smiled..._Claire took right to moving around his apartment as if she had been there many times before...somehow she had wrangled up an old box of popcorn and took it upon herself to make it for them. She was such a good person...tomorrow was going to be difficult for her as well, and yet he could sense that she had taken on the role of being __his__ comforter._

"I love Ingrid Bergman in this film...she's so beautiful and classy." Claire sighed, grabbing another fistful of popcorn

Peter considered questioning which actress that was, but he decided to not reveal any more of his ignorance, settling into the couch as the opening credits began.

"Did you and Nathan like watching movies together?"' Claire asked, raising her bright green eyes up to look at him.

"Yeah, we loved action films...you know, guy movies." Peter smiled, and Claire gave him a knowing grin as she turned back to watch the film.

_Peter remembered the time that Nathan had taken him to see Lethal Weapon 3 when he was thirteen. Angela had sent her sons to the theater with implicit instructions that Peter was not to see any movies with gratuitous violence at his age...however; Nathan had reasoned with Peter once they left home that the Lethal Weapon series should not be classified as mere gory exploitation films...there was an artistic depth to them...somewhere, Nathan was certain._

_But it turned out that artistic depth hadn't mattered in the least; both boys simply enthralled by the high-action excitement the film had delivered on. It turned out that their good mood had been short-lived, however...Peter's inability to lie had given them away once the younger Petrelli had finally admitted to Angela about seeing Lethal Weapon 3 but that "it hadn't really been a movie about violence...there had been some artistic depth."_

_When neither brother could provide evidence that said depth had, in fact, existed Angela had put them on dish washing duty for the remainder of the week. Or at least...Peter soon found out that __he__ was...Nathan was twenty-one and seemed to think that the punishment hadn't applied to him. Peter had been furious with Nathan at the time...as he sat glumly at the sink by himself, elbow-deep in soapy water...but now he simply looked back at the memory with great fondness and amusement. Getting in trouble with Nathan had always been worth it in the end, hadn't it?_

A couple of hours later, the bowl of popcorn only held a few kernels that hadn't popped, the movie's end credits were rolling, and Peter had an arm around Claire who was lightly dabbing her wet eyes with a tissue.

"God, that movie makes me cry every time I watch it." Claire sniffled, trying to give a small smile through her tears.

Peter gently rubbed her shoulder. "Hey, they'll always have Paris, right?"

Claire gave a nod as she released a small sigh. "Yeah."

Peter gave her another squeeze with his arm..._it had been a well-done film, but somehow the timing of its story...love and loss and sacrificing personal wants for the greater good...had hit him all the more. It had partly reminded him of Nathan...and also partly of Gabriel._ _If he had to choose between being with the person he loved or doing the right thing, what choice would he make? The answer didn't come as easily to him as he felt it once might've in his younger days._

Claire dabbed her eyes once more as she took in a deep breath. "So, did you like it? Or did you not completely hate it?"

Peter laughed softly. "No, Claire. I liked it."

"Good." Claire smiled, sitting up straighter on the couch. After a few moments of silence, she stood, popcorn bowl in hand and headed back towards the kitchen. "Do you want me to get you anything else?"

"No, I'm fine." Peter insisted, standing up to join her in the kitchen. "You're a guest in _my _house, c'mon. You go sit down."

"I'm just washing the popcorn bowl. Don't worry about me, Peter." Claire flashed him another confident grin. "I need to do a little work again, college has made me lazy."

Peter knew that wasn't true, but he resisted the urge to argue with her over it. Admittedly, it _was_ nice to have Claire so helpful in making sure that the time leading up to Nathan's birthday was one that was not stressful for Peter, but he also didn't want her to have to bury her own pain and emotions in order to focus solely on his. He would have to talk to her about it tonight, to make sure that she knew that she could cry too and that he would be there for her as well.

It was later that night, as Claire reclined on the couch, balancing a bottle of nail polish in her lap, her foot up in the air as she repainted all of her toenails a shade of red. Peter sat next to her, reading the book _Dying of the Light_...he remembered that he had once promised Gabriel that he would do so..._Gabriel had wanted to discuss the themes with Peter. It was his way of connecting to Peter; it was his way of sharing something he loved with the young man._

"Is that a good book?" Claire asked, her eyes concentrating as she placed another layer of polish on her big toe.

"Yeah, it's about timeless subjects like relationships and death." Peter shrugged, thumbing to the next page. "Speaking of relationships, how're you and Gretchen doing?"

"It's been really good." Claire admitted, the brush poised in her hand over her next toe. "Once I stopped placing up all these defenses and walls...everything got a lot better. You know, she was someone I never thought I'd be with and yet...she's the person I _needed_ to be with. She grounds me, she keeps me honest, and she's someone I can trust completely."

Peter nodded, thoughtfully. "That's good. Love is always more fun when it's not complicated, right?"

"And that's just it...I realized that love is sometimes a lot simpler than you make it." Claire gave s small shrug, as she polished her little toe. "I was the one making it complicated because I couldn't see that I was the one who was afraid. I was afraid to love her, I was afraid to let my guard down, and I was afraid of what it would mean to be that vulnerable in front of someone. Heartbreak is one thing that can't just heal. But then I remembered that it's better not to be indestructible when it comes to relationships. When you meet someone who's worth it, it's good to be scared. It's what makes us all human still."

Peter closed his book and placed it down on his lap. "Nathan once told me that love always come around again and stronger than before. And that's how you know...that's how you know when you have somethin' special. At the time I didn't know what the hell he was talkin' about, I was just the kid who thought he was gonna marry his high school sweetheart. But now I know what he meant. Sometimes it's when you're really scared at the beginning...'cuz you've been burned before and you never wanna feel that bad again. But then you go ahead and do it anyway. You go and fall in love."

Claire glanced over at him, a curiosity sparkling in her eyes even as she tried to keep her tone neutral. "So...anyone special in your life right now?"

Peter gave a harsh chuckle, his hand coming up to rub his chin, awkwardly. "_Ah_...I don't know anymore, Claire."

"You don't know?" Claire quirked her lips at him in amusement. "If you like someone you should tell them."

"I think I make love too complicated." He smiled, giving her a small wink. "I haven't gotten it all figured out yet like you."

"Yeah, right." Claire chuckled, rolling her eyes self-mockingly. "I don't have anything figured out. This is the girl who is probably going to have the undecided major until her senior year, remember?"

"You could always be a doctor or a lawyer. They run in the family." Peter teased, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

"Or a nurse." Claire replied brightly, putting the cap back on her nail polish bottle.

Peter laughed, his heart warming at her words. _He loved how much Claire admired him, he couldn't help it. Even Superman needed his supporters, after all_. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her in for an appreciative kiss to the top of her head.

He was about to draw away when Claire wrapped her arms around him to hug him closely; the sudden neediness of her contact taking him aback.

"You're lucky you two were so close. I bet you have so many good memories together." Claire whispered, and the sadness in her tone told Peter all he needed to know..._her hurt was slightly different than his own. Yes, she missed Nathan too...but she also missed the memories that she never got to have with him. She had been adopted into the Bennet family and hadn't met Nathan until she was sixteen. Even then she had been somewhat regulated to the shadows of the Petrelli family...Nathan not wanting to acknowledge an illegitimate daughter during his run for Congress or while being a U.S. Senator. Those were all surface reasons, however, and Peter knew that deep down Nathan was simply scared...scared like anyone was of cultivating a new relationship...he was scared that he wouldn't know how to be a good father to her after having been absent in her life for so long. Claire had later told Peter that she and her birth father had began reaching a common ground...a bond had been forming and strengthening. And then he was gone...and Claire was left with the biting regrets of what could have been._

"He loved you a lot." Peter murmured, laying his own head gently on top of Claire's. "You were the reason he knew he had to save the world."

A small sniffle sounded from where her head lay on his chest and Peter was deeply relieved that he could be his niece's comfort now.

"I just miss him too." Claire admitted, sadly. "I don't even have any pictures of him or anything..."

"My mom gave me a big photo album." Peter explained, his throat constricting slightly as he spoke. "I haven't even gone through it yet though...I'm not really sure why..."

Claire hesitated for a moment, drawing back from him slightly as she replied in a soft tone, "If you want to go get it now, we can look it over together."

"It's just me, Nathan, and my mom mostly." Peter explained, softly.

"Peter...it's okay." Claire gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I _know _I'm not in any photos. That's not the reason I want to see it. I want to see _you_ and Nathan together."

Peter gave a short nod, standing suddenly to retrieve the album. "Yeah, I left it in my room. I'll be right back."

Peter walked into his bedroom and pulled open his dresser drawer. He was slightly surprised to find it lying on top of the socks rather than where he had pushed it away underneath. It was also slightly open, as if someone had been looking through it.

_Oh, Gabriel. _Peter thought knowingly. He suddenly wished that Gabriel wouldn't have secretly looked through the album on his own..._Peter hoped that Gabriel would've been comfortable enough in their relationship to ask that they go through it together. Had Gabriel thought that Peter would be angered by such a suggestion? The thought saddened Peter now._

Peter headed back to Claire, still seated on the torn, ratty couch. He sat down next to her; his hands gripping the book a little tighter than he would've liked.

"I'm excited." Claire smiled, kindly. _She was still being strong for him. He felt a little guilty over that, but decided to resign himself to the fact that over the course of tonight and tomorrow they would both desperately be in need of each other._

Peter nodded as he opened the book to the first picture. The album hadn't been arranged in any particular order, his mother had just rounded up many of the old pictures she could find for him. It was okay, he liked going through the years without them being chronological. He didn't like starting at a beginning because then it was all the more painfully obvious that there was indeed an end. He liked this better...sifting through the years at random...everything blending together in moments of happiness and wholeness within the Petrelli family.

"Awww. You guys were so cute!" Claire smiled, touching a picture of Nathan and Peter dressed up for Midnight Mass at Christmas time. The picture read that Peter was four and that Nathan was twelve. Both were wearing tuxedos and oversized bowties. "It looks like you're being _told_ to smile, Peter, but you aren't happy in that suit..."

"Something I never grew out of." Peter chuckled, flipping to the next page.

"Oh...looks like Nathan at his prom." Claire replied, raising her eyebrows in Peter's direction. There was Nathan, beaming brightly, as two young girls clung to either of his arms, one a brunette and the other a redhead. "Was he always a notorious womanizer?"

Peter tried to smile for Claire, but he could feel the tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes again. _He wanted Nathan to be here so badly right now. If only the three of them could laugh at the pictures together. If only there was still time...still time for Peter to take pictures of Claire and Nathan together to add to the album._

"And there you are at your prom...at least, I think that's you. You're doing a great job of avoiding awkward prom photos by hiding under your bangs." Claire teased, nudging Peter playfully. "God, these photos are making me feel better that I missed my prom."

"Why'd you miss it again?" Peter asked, and he hadn't realized how low and choked his tone had become. He tried to quietly clear his throat, but it only amplified the previous sound.

But Claire continued as if she hadn't noticed. "I don't know...I think someone was trying to kill me. Or someone from the future came back and told us we needed to fix something."

Peter laughed, appreciative that she could keep a good sense of humor about their past. He patted her on the knee, affectionately. "You've been really brave, Claire."

"I've heard that before." Claire admitted, pressing her pink lips together. "But the truth is, I really haven't been. I've just been trying to keep going one day at a time...just like you."

Peter gave a small nod...his eyes were beginning to glass over as his thoughts drifted once more to his lost brother..._and then to Gabriel. Peter wondered if the man was okay; wondered if he was sad or lonely or needed Peter's comfort_. Peter wondered why his love for Nathan and his love for Gabriel had to be so intricately tied to each other in a confusing, messy heap of threads that had been spun carelessly together. _Couldn't he just mourn Nathan's death and love Gabriel...why did doing one of those things have to make the other wrong?_

"Oh, look at this picture." Claire smiled, pulling at Peter's shirt sleeve to get his attention. It was him as a baby..._probably only a month or two old_...and Nathan was pushing him around in a large, white stroller. An older woman with graying, dark brown hair..._Nonna, they had called her..._was following near Nathan. Her allegiance to her birth country was made none-too-subtle by her vibrant dress made with the tricolor of the Italian flag.

"Is that your grandmother?" Claire asked, curiously.

Peter gave a small nod. "Yeah, she was my dad's mom. She was actually born in Italy but she came over to America when she was seventeen."

Claire laughed, a bit sadly. "This picture reminds me of the time that Nathan had promised to take me to Italy. He said he had visited it once while in the Air Force and that it was breathtaking." Claire smiled brightly, a chuckle still on her lips. "You know, he had tried to make me spaghetti once...but he actually _burnt _the pasta. Can you believe it? I told him he was the only person I ever met that could burn pasta."

_She could always do that...even at Nathan's funeral. She could look back on it all and smile and reminisce fondly...she could laugh without the tears always simultaneously clouding her vision._

Peter cocked his head back in order to gaze upon Claire with glassy and darkening eyes. "How do you smile about it all so much?"

Claire replied to his words by frowning sadly, "Don't you?"

Peter shook his head pointedly. "I try but it's really hard for me. I mean, I can think about memories of him that make me laugh, that still make me feel good inside...but if I ever stop and think about him for too long..."

"It's hard for me too, Peter." Claire admitted, softly. "But then I try and remind myself that Nathan would hate it if he only ever made us cry."

Peter nodded, but something very real and pressing was pulling at his insides..._demanding to be spoken._ "It's just that...sometimes I'm really happy again." Peter turned to face her, his eyes dark and earnest now. "I wake up and I'm excited for the day...for the people that I have in my life." He let out a small snort, his face coming down to bury into his hand; his hair falling around to shroud his face as he choked out, "But then he's still gone."

Claire said nothing; instead she simply wrapped her arms around Peter and drew him close to her in a warm hug.

"Sometimes...he'd take me flying with him." Peter murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. "Before we knew we could actually fly. He'd take me up in one of those small airplanes for two people. He'd pilot both of us...high above the clouds...and we could see the whole world just floating by right beneath us. Time seemed to move slower and quieter up in the sky...and he would be completely at peace. And he used to say..." Peter sucked in a deep breath; a few, unwanted tears pressing heavily against his eyelids. "He used to say, 'It's like bein' in heaven, Pete.'"

"Nathan would _want_ you to be happy now." Claire whispered, brushing her small hand against Peter's tears. "You know that I'm right."

"I know that but then..." Peter pressed his hand up against his lips and sucked in a deep breath. "Sometimes it seems like I shouldn't be happy without him, you know? That it's like I'm forgetting him somehow. When I feel pain...when I'm hurting...I know he's still with me. But when I don't..." Peter closed his eyes...he was remembering the time he had awoken in bed next to Gabriel the day after they had made love together on the kitchen table.

. _"Last night was amazing...you were so attentive. My god, Gabriel, I'm still warm all over from it..."_

_For indeed, that night Gabriel hadn't worried about anything but making Peter feel warm and safe. He hadn't feared anything but giving himself over completely to the young man. There had been an abandonment of thought...a surrendering of doubt...and Gabriel had embraced Peter and their love so entirely that night that Peter had felt emotionally swept away._

_There had been a raw newness present in the way Gabriel's body had interacted with his own...as if Gabriel really had been making love to Peter for the first time...only this time their principle joining was not tainted by fear or guilt or pain or past hurts or a need to release anger while grappling with surging feelings of want. It had just been messy, beautiful, passionate love._

"_I feel...even closer, to you, Gabriel...and that scares me. But it's a good scary. It's always a good scary."_

_It seemed like a lifetime ago, Peter waking up that morning to the peaceful surrender of Gabriel's arms wrapping firmly around the young man's body. Gabriel had been watching Peter with the tenderest and loving expression; that sweet innocence that could dust his face was always so endearing to Peter. And Peter had felt it...felt it for one of the first times since Nathan had died...Peter had felt happy...so, so very warm and happy...and content._

_And he had selfishly wanted to feel that way forever. He had wanted to just be happy and in love with Gabriel. He had wanted to believe that he could finally find the life he had always hoped for: the power to change the world and to save people's lives, someone by his side in which to love and share it all with, and the dream that someday he could settle down and begin his own family. Before all of their lives had changed in the discovery of abilities, Peter had used to watch Nathan with his wife, Heidi and dream that someday he himself would be that family man like his older brother._

_But that wasn't right. Because to be happy never felt right anymore. Peter never wanted to forget that hurt...never wanted to lose that all-consuming ache...because if he did than he might lose that part of Nathan that made him hurt so damn bad. And losing any part of Nathan was unacceptable. It was bad enough he couldn't talk to Nathan anymore...how many times in the beginning had Peter wanted to pick up the phone and call his brother...had wanted to get relationship advice when Gabriel was driving him crazy...only to realize that he had lost that part of Nathan already. And then he'd also remember why...and why he couldn't be happy._

"It never feels right to be happy anymore." Peter finished, rubbing his right eye tenderly..._he could feel the heat of his tears wishing to pour forth. But he couldn't start crying...because something within told him that to start crying meant to not stop for hours...and he couldn't put Claire through that. _"Not without Nathan."

"But he's still with you..." Claire lightly touched Peter's cheek..._and Peter wished she hadn't, the tears becoming all the more difficult to suppress. _"And he's always going to be with you no matter what...you can't lose that."

"No...no, Claire...he'd be pissed at me." Peter groaned in a choked voice; his chest beginning to heave under the pressure of keeping so much confusion, guilt, and pain buried for so long..._for almost six months as he had struggled with what it meant to feel happy when Gabriel was the one resurrecting those emotions within him. He had known he had not been wrong to love Gabriel now...but how was it right when his family would only see Sylar?_

"Nathan would _not _be pissed at you for being _happy_." Claire continued to dab at his wet cheek, her eyes watching him with deep concern. "Peter, you already know that. Where is this coming from...?"

"Ah, Claire...you don't understand. I _can't_ be happy when I know that he's gone. And why." Peter let out a rough snort, and now every time he blinked he could feel hot, angry tears rushing from his bleary gaze. _Damn it, he hated crying in front of her like this. It wasn't the fact that he simply was crying...his mother had always told him that his sensitivity was not a weakness and he had always believed her, after all...but it was the fact that he was shedding tears over Gabriel. The man she knew as Sylar...a man she so desperately hated...and her confusion now was not fair to her. It was making it abundantly clear to Peter that to withhold information of Sylar's change of heart was dangerously close to lying to her...and Peter couldn't have that. Not on top of everything else...he could never lie to his Claire._

"No, I think I do understand." Claire murmured, softly. She touched Peter's chin so that he'd meet her soft, emerald gaze. "This is about you never killing Sylar, right? You think you should've avenged Nathan's death. But you know what? Nathan would've wanted you to be safe and to be _here _for the people who love you...like your mother and me. He wouldn't have wanted you chasing Sylar all over the globe for an eternity..."

"He's changed." Peter blurted out, his gaze darkening with seriousness as his sharp, hazel eyes bored into hers. "G-Gabriel...he's changed."

Claire watched Peter intently, her lips pressing tightly together at his words. She gave a heavy swallow, a small rumble of a storm gathering on her usually bright face. "_Gabriel_?"

"He's not Sylar anymore. He's changed and..." Peter pressed his hand to his mouth; he was able to snort back most of his tears now. "He's changed and I've been helpin' him..."

The lack of Claire's body warmth was jarringly apparent. She placed her hands down on either side of her; pressing them deeply into the couch as if to ground herself. "_What_? Peter...what the hell are you talking about?"

"Before the carnival...I-I had a dream." Peter tried to reach out and touch her again, but she kept herself out of his reach. He resigned himself to this, deciding that to press on would be the best course of action now that he had started, "I had a dream that Gabriel needed to help me save all of those people. I went to find him and I found out that Matt Parkman had him trapped in a nightmare world. So I went into the nightmare too..."

"He was trapped and you _freed _him?" Claire demanded, her eyes flashing in disbelief.

_He understood her indignation, of course he did. He had felt it all himself at one point of time. He had been so angry to even be anywhere near Sylar and to not be able to hurt him for what he had done to Nathan...for what he had done to the Petrelli family. _

"Claire, at the time I hated him too!" Peter exclaimed, his voice rising louder as his emotions flooded him. "I wanted to kill him...I wanted him to suffer more than anything. But...but I _needed _him. To help me..." Peter gestured to himself with knowingly hollow words. "To help me save the world."

Claire turned her head away from Peter and the young man could see the tears that were burning in the young girl's eyes.

"Claire, I know that you feel betrayed right now. But you were there...thousands of people were gonna die." Peter ran his fingers through his mess of thick hair, sighing helplessly. "I spent five years in that nightmare world with only Gabriel. It was just him and me...for every hour, every minute, every second. And I hated him...I hated him so much...but then..." Peter closed his eyes tightly..._remembering when Gabriel finally started reaching out to Peter. Remembering when Gabriel had first pressed his beautiful, full lips into Peter's...Peter had felt so lost for a moment, his head hurtling somewhere towards the clouds, his heart slamming against his ribcage, his stomach leaping up to his throat before he had regained enough sense to pull away and question Gabriel ferociously as to what the hell that was all about...even though deep down Peter knew he had only wished that they didn't have to stop._

"And then _what_?" Claire hissed, her head swinging back around so that she could stare at Peter with fervent intensity. "You forgot that he killed your brother...my _father_..."

"I never forgot!" Peter shouted, his face flushing as he began to relive every unwanted, sweeping emotion. "Believe me when I say that I _never _forgot. But he is a changed man. He came out of that nightmare a completely different person. He is never gonna hurt anyone ever again and it would've been wrong of me to continue to condemn him when..."

"He's _changed_?" Claire demanded, incredulously. She shook her head in absolute disbelief. "He's changed? _Sylar_? Remember the _last_ time he changed...he later went on to try and kill me, my dad, and _your _mom...and he DID kill Meredith..._my mother_!"

_Yes, only the dreamer can understand the intense beauty of the dream. Peter could see that now...all of the times Gabriel had sobbed over the horrors of his past...Gabriel and Peter's whispered exchanges of childhood memories...the stories that had transformed them both into the men they would become...their tender and hushed intimate touches...their brief yet passionate tryst...this was all lost on Claire now. Of course it was lost on her; she was not to blame for Peter's inability to paint the picture as vibrantly as he had once seen it._

Peter nodded heavily; his own eyes brimming once more with tears. "Claire, I know! I _know_ that it's crazy." He climbed to his feet; pressing a hand firmly to his chest as if trying to convey some unknown point. "But he helped me to save all of those people at the carnival. And he is a _good _person...he was patient with me when I still wanted nothing more than to just beat the hell out of him. He never gave up on me when we were trapped in there...when we could've lost our minds in there. He's sorry and regrets it all more than you can ever possibly know... he's gonna punish himself forever for the things he's done, believe me."

"Good!" Claire snapped, also jumping up onto her feet. "I hope he does, because he deserves it. You don't just get to be _sorry _for the things he's done. Peter...I can't believe this is coming from _you_. How could you just _forgive _him after...?"

"I NEVER FORGAVE HIM!" Peter roared...and Claire and he both stumbled away from each other in devastating shock over the raging anger and hurt his tone had conveyed.

"Oh, god..." Peter murmured, his eyes darting away from Claire quickly. "I never forgave him...not for killing Nathan..."

_And Gabriel had always known. That was why it was so hard for Gabriel to say 'I love you' back to Peter. It was because of Peter...because he didn't love as freely and without the safety net as he had always told himself. Because Peter had built up an indestructible wall to help deal with the fact that he wasn't. Those three, little words of forgiveness were still glaringly absent between he and Gabriel. Deep down Gabriel knew that Peter wanted to love him...but also wanted to punish him forever. After all, forgiveness too often times felt exactly like acceptance...and accepting Nathan's death had never been an option._

"Peter..." Claire whispered, tears dribbling out of her pained, emerald gaze and down her flushed cheeks. "Peter, I love you...you know that. I've always loved you...since the moment you saved my life. I'm...I'm just s-scared for you...s-so scared...that he'll h-hurt you _too_..."

"Claire." Peter choked out, grasping onto Claire's shoulders and pulling her forward into a crushing hug. _At the moment, he never wished to let her go_.

"_He_ _can't have you_." Claire seethed, as she gripped onto Peter as tightly as possible.

"Claire..." Peter whispered, holding her closely to his body. "He's not gonna hurt me. I know that nothin' is gonna change what he's done to us...but I can't be angry like I once was anymore." Peter sighed, heavily, his own eyes growing glassier with his words. "I can't be angry because I know what it's like to wanna change."

"Peter, you can't honestly compare the two of you..." Claire began, but she fell silent as soon as Peter shook his head, determined to finish what he was trying to convey.

"How many bad things have I done in the past three years, Claire? I almost...I almost released a virus that would've exterminated the entire human race. I-I...I almost...k-killed my mom when I had absorbed Gabriel's power. His power isn't like ours...there's a hunger that comes with it. It makes the person crave more and more...until it almost drives you insane. I _had _that...I _felt _it...and I was just as much of a monster." Peter closed his eyes tightly, burying his face into Claire's soft, blonde curls. He could hear her softly weeping into his chest. _And he knew he needed to press on. He needed to be strong for her right now. _"I disconnected myself from everybody...I almost lost myself in all this craziness we've found ourselves in. But now I don't wanna be that guy anymore. I don't wanna lose myself in a quest to save the world from visions and dreams. I wanna be a hero to the people that I love...I wanna be a hero through saving people..._one _person at a time." Peter snorted heavily, his throat constricting as he gave a hard swallow. "I wanna let the past stay in the past. I changed...and I couldn't say no to him for wanting to change too. I had to stop being angry...at him, at myself...and I needed to accept the fact that everybody..._everybody_, Claire...needs that extra chance at trying to do things right the second time around."

"You _aren't _the same...stop _saying _that!" Claire shouted, her voice muffled and constrained as she pressed her face firmly against his heaving chest.

"I know it's the not the same." Peter agreed, his breathing still coming out hard and rough. "I know it's not the same...but I also know that I don't wanna be angry at a man who really just wants to be good now. I never want to be that angry again. I wanna be...I wanna be happy, Claire. And if he's really sorry then I wanna accept that. If he's really the man that I got to know after five years of nothing but being there for each other and only each other...then I wanna accept _him_."

Claire released a choked sob, her face lifting up to once more meet his. Her eyes were confused and scared..._but, oh...still filled with that beautiful love and adoration they had always held for him. God, he had been so afraid that would've been extinguished by now_.

"Peter, I don't trust him. I _can't_ trust him." Claire wept, her arms still clinging to Peter with hopeless desperation. "B-but...but I trust _you_. I trust _you_, Peter and I will always trust and love you..."

"Oh..." Peter cried, burying his face onto the top of her head; kissing that soft blonde mane repeatedly in absolute relief. "God, t-thank you. Thank you, Claire...thank you..."

"But we need to talk." She added, her voice still low and uneven.

"I know." Peter nodded, laying his cheek down on top of her head; his arms still encircled around her small form. "I know we do."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Once again, a special shout out to the reviewers who keep me inspired! BIG thanks to Kessi38, GaaraHinataWake, and Maya for your helpful comments! And thank you to everyone else who has been reading as well!**

**Chapter 22**

_All of the memories were so twisted, so confusing. Sylar's psyche had been pulled in so many different directions that he hardly knew which memories had existed during the time that Nathan's consciousness had been forced into his body and which memories had been Nathan's long before then._

_When Sylar had awoken after being drugged by Peter, nothing had made much sense. Later, when Sylar had become whole again he could barely remember what had been real and what had been a weird amalgamation of experiences that were his, Nathan's, or even Matt's._

_Parts of his memories had resided in Matt Parkman's head. He remembered being in a battle of wills and of the mind against Matt, trying to convince the man to take Sylar to be reunited with his body. He also remembered being very confused and conflicted as Nathan Petrelli. A third fracture even remembered being Gabriel...but feeling so lost, so strange, a man that shouldn't exist and who was new to the world and all of its sensations._

_The memory of everything becoming whole and real again was the strongest of all. Sylar had later found that Angela Petrelli and Noah Bennet had convinced Matt Parkman to use his mental powers in order to push Nathan's thoughts into Sylar's body in an attempt to resurrect the oldest Petrelli son while destroying Sylar once and for all. This had backfired, however, when Nathan had begun feeling as if he was no longer himself. He had tried searching for answers...but this had only led him down a dark path of uncovering more of the real Nathan's secret past. As a younger man, Nathan had been involved in an accident that had left his girlfriend dead. Angela had later erased those memories, but now they had resurfaced due to a power that Sylar had acquired in which he knew the history of every object he touched._

_After he had admitted his guilt to his former flame's mother, he had been shot in retribution. His body had instinctively healed itself and he had awoken as Gabriel once more...in the purest sense of the word. He had no background, no memories, and no life experiences to form or shape him. It was as if he had truly been reborn, only genetic coding and innate personality there to guide him. He was shed of the influence that a childhood of loneliness and isolation within his sick mother's house had brought him._

_But then somehow...and he could never pinpoint the moment...he had been Nathan again and everything else had been completely forgotten. He had awoken to find himself the Senator once more with absolutely no clue as to where the week had gone. He was scared and he was deeply shaken...the continual aching feeling that something wasn't quite right had only intensified within him. So he turned to the one man who had always had his back. He turned to the little brother that had always seen him as a hero, who had always given him strength and confidence even when he was feeling lost and uncertain._

_He went to go find Peter._

_And Peter had been everything that he always was to Nathan. Peter was compassionate and supportive and ready to drop everything in order to help Nathan fix what was wrong. But things turned out to be far more wrong than any of them could ever imagine._

_The images became grainy and distorted...Nathan's dead body...his __real __dead body...was found in a storage unit. Somehow Nathan...or Sylar...had gotten strange flashes of Matt Parkman resurging in his mind. Peter had suggested that they go find Matt in order to get answers._

_But then these memories kept intermixing with Sylar trapped in a hospital bed...Matt Parkman having committed suicide by cop...in hopes of silencing Sylar with this action as well. Even so, Sylar could still feel himself screaming out to his body to come and save him from death...his soul was fighting, fighting, fighting against the dying of the light with just as much strength and fortitude as always._

_Matt had been lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and with his vital signs dangerously low. Nathan had turned to Peter curiously, "Can you help?"_

_Peter had glanced over at him. "I can try."_

_The moment that Peter placed his hands on Matt's chest, the man's vitals began to spike. Peter let out a heavy breath as he felt his healing power flow out from within him and into Matt. Matt began to wake up, his injuries simultaneously disappearing._

_Matt jerked up in a panic, but Peter was quick to place a comforting hand on the older man's shoulder as he murmured softly, "Matt."_

_Matt tried to stand, but he noted that he is handcuffed to the bed._

"_You're okay...Matt, you're okay." Peter reassured, gently, his grasp still firmly on Matt's shoulder. "It's me, Peter."_

"_Uh...what happened?" Matt wondered, groggily._

"_You're okay." Peter reassured him before moving away to get Matt some water._

_And then, it was as if one had been blind their entire life and then suddenly granted the ability to see the world in all its splendor and colors. It was like being roused from a deep and groggy slumber. Sylar had risen once more to the forefront of Parkman's mind and something deep within was making him hunger to reach right out and touch Nathan. _

_And Nathan was confused...so confused...and so deeply disturbed by everything that he had felt and saw today...and the soul wanted the body...and the body wanted the soul...it was against nature that they should have ever been separated to begin with...body and soul..._

"_Good things do come to those who wait." Sylar hissed to Matt, slowly and mockingly._

_Matt seemed to realize what had happened, his face contorting in horror...__yes, Parkman my body was drawn right to me...Peter hand delivered my salvation and he'll never even know until it's too late..._

"_You son of a bitch, get out of my head!" Matt yelled angrily, making Peter return to the other man's bedside out of surprised concern._

"_You're in a hospital, I brought you back." Peter explained, soothingly._

"_No, you don't understand. This is exactly what he wants!" Matt replied, the terror and realization now clearly painted on his face._

_Nathan watched with growing curiosity...__there was a puzzle here that needed to be solved...a mystery that needed unraveling. Something very wrong and curious was happening to him and he wanted to know what it was...damn it...he had been aching to know for months._

"_What's he talking about?" Nathan had asked, even as Sylar had demanded towards Parkman, "Bring him closer, Parkman. One touch is all I need. You can have your miserable life back. And I can have my body back."_

_The words all ran together now upon recollection...what parts Nathan had said and what parts Sylar had said...it all washed together like a laundry full of ill-matched clothing._

"_SHUT UP!" Matt shouted, leaving Peter and Nathan both looking very concerned. Peter and Nathan turned around, but found no one behind them. Matt continued, clearly distressed. "You guys, run. Get away from me before he comes back."_

_Oh...something missing was just within grasp, Nathan could feel it. There were so many answers at the tip of his fingers...he just had to reach out and grab them before they could slip away again. "Before who comes back?"_

"_SYLAR!" Matt exclaimed, clearly panicked and worried._

_Peter looked skeptical but also slightly unnerved...was he having second thoughts about the body he and Nathan had found in the storage unit? __You should have doubts, Peter. You know that I could shape shift. You know that Mommy always lies._

"_Sylar's dead, Matt." Peter settled on replying, but his eyes were still marked with uncertainty, as if he was starting to doubt the entirety of his words._

"_No, he's in my head. He's trying to control my mind." Matt replied, blinking quickly as his breathing deepened._

_Sylar was wearing at Parkman's resolve...witling away at his mental capacity until only his own influence was left...there was a stabbing, aching pain churning in his gut that was begging and pleading to touch the man before him...__Nathan, Nathan, he needed Nathan...__and he knew that soon his body would begin to feel the pangs of needing him too._

"_I know it sounds crazy, but if he controls me...if he gets my power..." Matt continued, his words spilling from him in a rushed fashion. "He's gonna jump back into his body."_

_Peter's whispering something in my ear. He thinks that Matt is crazy...he thinks that Matt is delusional. But no...there is more...there is so much more going on than that..._

_Oh, Peter don't deny the truth. You know that Nathan is dead and you know that I still live. Be honest, Peter...it's one of your better qualities. _

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Matt." Nathan interjected, but his words were a bit more curious than Peter's skepticism. "What do you mean his body?"_

"_This should be good." Sylar deadpanned, watching both Petrelli brothers intensely through Matt's gaze. He had once wished to only touch Peter...to caress those soft, chocolate locks...but now the only brother he craved was Nathan...and for an entirely different purpose. Because that wasn't Nathan, it was Sylar's body...__and I don't understand. Who was that body I saw? What is Matt Parkman saying? Who am I really?_

"_Nathan...you're...you're dead." And Matt's voice was clear-cut and dry. There was no mistaking his words now. "Sylar...murdered you."_

_So many distorted images floated around in his mind's eye...at one moment Sylar's viewpoint is a flurry of his own thoughts...prowling near Nathan's body like a cat eager to pounce on a mouse...the next moment he is watching Peter's face furrow with concern...and there is dread mixed with subtle understanding seeping into his being._

"_He cut your throat." Matt continued to explain, with deliberate certainty._

_Oh...the puzzle was taking shape...but its picture was a grotesque and frightening one. Peter...he needed Peter to tell him that it wasn't true...that he wasn't dead...murdered...but another part of him thirsted for only the truth now..._

"_I used my power to purge his mind from his...b-body." Matt bravely pushed on, the pain clearly painted across his features. "Put your thoughts in..."_

_Peter positioned himself protectively against Sylar's...__Nathan's__...body as if to shield his brother from the unwelcome words. Sylar had stalked towards Peter with unchecked passion__...beautiful man...that's not your brother you're guarding so closely...it's my body and I want it back...then I can use it against you, if you so wish...and violently so. __Sylar touched his neck in disbelief...__he had been killed...no, no...Nathan...Nathan had touched his neck__..._

"_You're weakening, Parkman." Sylar gloated, and he could feel it...it was throbbing continuously in his heart now...__or Nathan's heart__...he wasn't sure._

"_I'm not gonna let you do this." Matt insisted, straining against his handcuffs as he continued to breathe hard. The possibility of what was about to happen...__Sylar, the monster, the devil unleashed upon the Earth once more...__seemed to be taking a toll on him._

"_I don't have time for all the five stages of grief." Sylar stated, simply. __It was time to take control of Parkman...he could've done it all along, he had just been waiting for the ripest moment to pick. __"Let's go right from denial to acceptance."_

_Nathan was talking to Peter. Peter was giving him that familiar look that Peter always got when he desperately wanted for his older brother to listen to him._

"_You heard him, Pete. You heard what he said." Nathan whispered, his hand still gingerly touching his throat. __He wasn't really Nathan...he was Sylar...and maybe the last bloody pieces of that jigsaw were starting to round into place._

"_I don't believe it, Nathan." Peter replied, those hazel eyes shining with such fervent determination. His little brother Peter...__or his enemy, Peter__. But no, no...he cared more for Peter than he had cared for anyone else in the whole world...__and whether that was Nathan's or Sylar's memory, Gabriel was no longer certain._

_Matt's sudden cries and thrashing broke the intent concentration between the two brothers. They turned to face the third man; surprised and disconcerted to find him struggling and grunting in what seemed to be an exhaustive fight._

"_Nathan..." The voice had called out to Nathan._

"_Nathan..." He had murmured towards his body._

"_It's true."__It had been simultaneously heard and spoken, and whenever Gabriel tried to sift through these memories he found he was unable to discern between the senses._

_Nathan raised his hand and walked towards the bed in child-like curiosity. __There was some choking, demanding, all-encompassing force of nature urging him forward now. It was all so scary...but so right...and so impossible to say no to._

"_I'm so sorry."_ _Again, the words were coming from everywhere at once...he was hearing them...he was speaking them...they were reverberating off of the very walls._

"_You're saying I'm Sylar?" Nathan had murmured...but something else was stirring in all of Nathan's memories, clawing to find its way out of its protective shell._

_Innocent Gabriel...fresh, new, reborn Gabriel...he just wanted to know how things worked. He didn't want to kill, he didn't want to maim, he didn't want to destroy. He just wanted...to know...why._

"_Yes." Sylar whispered, softly...__oh, god...his body...his body...a soul needed a body. __"But I can make it all right...all you have to do is take my hand." He lifted Parkman's eyes as innocently as possible, his hand outstretching for his other half to take it._

_Oh, and now the images were so wrought with intensely provocative metaphors. Nathan...__Gabriel__...the innocent lamb, the untouched virgin to the world. All of Sylar's memories...__corrupted; insane, twisted with dark desires__...he was the hungry wolf that was ready to bite down into the pure little lamb._

_And Peter...__he was forever the beautiful guardian angel__...he was prepared to protect all from the temptation of the devil's snare._

_Body and soul stared each other in the eye...neither moving...neither taking their gaze away...all was still and calm before the brewing of the tempest._

"_All you need to do is take my hand." Sylar urged on._

_Take my hand and be whole again. Take my hand and be well again._

_Yes, yes. To take his hand will be to finally make everything right. But not in the way Pete wants it to be...no...in the way it needs to be. In the way it should've always been._

_Matt was crying out once more...__everywhere, confusingly and deafeningly from all angles__...but body and soul were in such a trance that none of Matt's words reached them._

"_It all makes sense, Pete." Nathan...Gabriel...Sylar...all three breathed out at once, realization dawning on him from every point of tangled memory._

"_Get away from him." Peter demanded, darkly; reaching out his hand in worry as unease began to paint those sharp features._

_Peter...you can't save a dead man. Hush. Hush those lips and don't speak. I don't want to hear from you anymore...ever again._

"_It all adds up...these powers aren't mine." Nathan whispered, and the puzzle had cemented in his mind's eye. "It's Sylar's. I don't exist." __And he knew what had happened...he knew how it all worked now. Knowing never brought happiness...but it brought understanding._

_And that had been nothing he had stolen. That ability had always been his. Since a child he had read books from cover to cover...he had cut up his stuffed rabbit with a pair of sewing scissors to see what made it feel so soft when he hugged it...he had taken clocks and watches apart...and he opened skulls and discovered secrets of the brain. His body hadn't been robbed of that...his genetic coding still craved...and still knew._

_If Gabriel was remembering everything correctly...__and sometimes it seemed as if he couldn't possibly have been seeing it all the way it had actually happened, so much of it spread out in strange, confusing scenarios__...he had seen his body standing in the very center, between Peter and his soul, like mortal man in the Garden of Eden. He had seen good stand beside him in one direction...__sweet, sweet Peter__...and evil on the other...Sylar's __damned, broken soul__._

_And he had to decide which hand to take._

_Sylar remembered Peter looking right at him...those piercing, hazel eyes never disappointing in their intensity...before turning back around to face Nathan again...__his brother...but really him__..._

"_Doesn't make sense." Peter stated defiantly, reaching out to grab Nathan's elbow. "I don't buy that."_

_I know I make you angry, Peter. But this isn't about us anymore. _

"_Take my hand, Nathan."_

_Please, take my hand...TAKE MY HAND!_

_Peter kept pulling him away...but he couldn't take his eyes off of Parkman. God, it was all so infuriating...Peter needed to stop...needed to let him go..._

"_TAKE MY HAND NOW."_

_Take his hand...take his hand...that felt more right than what Peter was urging him to do...Peter was taking him away...but that wasn't right. No...he had finally found his magnetic polar opposite and it cried out for them to connect._

"_DO IT...TAKE MY HAND."_

_And the last thing that he could remember...the last thing that was burned into his memory for an eternity it seemed...was the moment Peter had pressed him away...had pressed him away so that he wasn't facing Sylar anymore. Then Peter had stuck his finger in Sylar's face...__in my face__...and shouted in uncontained anger, "I'll kill you first!"_

_But Peter was getting in the way...__too many voices in every head...Matt screaming in Sylar's head...Peter shouting in Nathan's head__...and Sylar's body had taken to throwing Peter against the wall...__because it seemed that Gabriel had inherently been an impatient child...and Peter was delaying his gratification...and so Peter was dutifully sent away._

"_NATHAN, NO!" Matt cried out, but his words were even now broken and very far away sounding...__the pulsating pounding of hot blood billowing with increasing tandem was the only thing resounding in both soul and body now._

"_It's okay, Pete. Matt's right." Nathan said, serenely...his arm still outstretched towards his fallen brother. "It's time to end it."_

"_One touch, Nathan, and it's over." Sylar promised, his desperation growing...__his hunger for reunification almost unbearably ferocious now._

_He wanted to touch him so badly._

_He wanted to be touched so badly._

_Nothing else mattered...not Peter...not Parkman...not anything. Only that hand mattered...only that hand brushing against his own mattered..._

"_You, back away from the prisoner!" And just then a prison guard had burst into the room, intent on pulling Nathan away from Parkman's hand._

"_Take my hand, do it now." Sylar murmured, trying to temper the growing frustration with gentle persuasion._

"_I said get away..." The guard insisted, grabbing Nathan by the arm._

"_GET AWAY!" Matt roared in Sylar's head._

_And in one, powerful, precise moment...Sylar remembered seeing Nathan spin around...he remembered seeing Nathan's hand drift painfully near his own...he remembered feeling the light yet overwhelmingly satisfying sensation of Nathan's hand brushing against him...and in that moment a surge jolted through both body and soul._

_They had joined once more. But as Sylar had rushed into Nathan...and Nathan had rushed into Sylar...__so many memories...so many different, conflicting versions of events rushing before his mind's eye__...both Nathan and Sylar were lost to a raging battle of wills._

_He had thrown the guard away using telekinesis. Everything felt lost...and wrong...and confused...as he struggled to remember where he was and...and __who__ he truly was._

"_NO!" Matt yelled in utter frustration. "Nathan, where is he? Nathan, where __is__ he?"_

_Nathan...Sylar...Gabriel...it all rushed together as he glanced around at his surroundings, at a complete loss. He hadn't a clue as to how he had even gotten here...or why it was so loud and upsetting in this room, or why Matt continued to shout incoherently at him..._

_And then he saw it...the thing that made his blood run cold. __Peter..._

_Peter was lying on the floor, dazed and slipping in and out of consciousness. God, someone had hurt Peter...__god; he had hurt Peter, hadn't he?_

"_Pete..." He whispered, rushing over to the young man and helping him to stand. __Seeing Peter injured had seemed to draw Nathan's memories to the forefront once more...because Nathan was Peter's protector, after all and Sylar...well, Sylar had always hurt Peter...hadn't he?_

"_C'mere...we gotta get out of here." Nathan continued, as he helped carry Peter over his shoulder. The younger Petrelli merely gave a small grunt in reply._

_But it was Sylar who strode to the window...so focused, so calculating...it was Sylar who threw open the window with merely the swish of his fingertips._

"_No, Nathan!" Matt shouted, still bound and helpless to his hospital bed._

_And it was Nathan and Sylar...it was the two of them together that turned back to look Matt in the eye. Both knew that Matt understood exactly what was happening...that Nathan truly was dead. That Sylar truly was lost, drowning in a sea of unfamiliar emotions and memories...but that eventually he would sift through it all and be his same, twisted self once more. And that Peter was brotherless...that Peter...the only man on Earth that could've forgiven Sylar for his sins would now only hate him forever._

"_Is he in you?" Matt demanded, in a last ditch effort to struggle against his cuffs. "Son of a bitch, is he IN YOU?"_

_Gabriel could barely differentiate memories any longer. Sylar...Nathan...so many of them intermixed these days. But he was certain of one thing. It was both of them that turned to look at the wall that Peter had been thrown into._

_Both realizing that Nathan was truly gone...and that no one could protect Peter anymore. The thought was chilling to both in strange ways._

_Looking back on it, Gabriel realized something too...something that was all the more painful and heartbreaking. He realized that his innate actions that day had been all too revealing. When angry and lost, he would throw Peter into a wall. Nathan had been right...no one was left to protect Peter anymore._

_Because Gabriel would only continue to hurt him._

* * *

Gabriel hated feeling this way. He hated the sick torment that had settled coldly in his stomach. He hated the heated, unbearable anger that was pressing..._burning_...against his chest. He hated feeling as if the situation was spiraling out of his control. He hated feeling small and scared. And she had always made him feel all of those things.

_It's just what mothers did, he supposed._

_Oh, Angela Petrelli_. She was just as much of a monster as he was. She had manipulated and lied to her family. She had used people as nothing more than mere instruments in her sick, twisted games. She had never thought twice about playing God.

And now she was determined to take Peter away from him.

_Gabriel knew he shouldn't have gone to her with such rage pounding in his veins. He should've given himself some time to calm down. But Jennifer's betrayal and Angela's manipulations and Peter's absence all seemed to cause a twisting fire to smolder hotly in Gabriel's core. He couldn't help himself now, couldn't help but take action...to take control of his own destiny. Because he was a good person now...and Peter loved him...and he defied anyone to change those facts. Peter had told him...Peter had said that Gabriel could choose his own path from now on, regardless of the past. And that's exactly what he was going to do._

Gabriel quickened his pace, the nighttime streets made darker by the gathering storm clouds overhead. It had rained earlier, but the storm's threat didn't seem to have entirely passed. It was as if the weather was now mirroring his mood..._dark and tumultuous; his breathing hot and heavy as his shoes sloshed through the chilling puddles that had gathered on grimy sidewalks. He ignored the ice water that seeped into his socks. He was already cold all over._

He hardly had a plan for what he would say to Angela once he was actually face to face with her. He just knew that she needed to listen. _Oh, today she was going to hear him speak and finally understand._

He had always known that she would be back. She wouldn't let him have Peter. _He ignored the irritating voice in his head that asked himself whether he __deserved__ to have Peter. After what he had done to Peter...after he had hurt Peter._

Gabriel shook his head resolutely, turning down the street that he knew Angela's apartment would be on. He had seen her address tucked away into Peter's things before. He told himself that it was his love for Peter that pushed him on now..._not his hate for Angela, not his anger at what she had done to him in the past, not his surmounting regrets that continued to haunt him. No, this was in defense of what he and Peter had built together._

Gabriel was surprised to notice that he had already arrived at Angela's apartment complex. He hesitated, realizing he hadn't thought of a means to get in. _And not just into the building. Had he expected that Angela would open the door to him? Her eldest son's murderer?_

After all, he would always be Nathan's murderer. No amount of repentance could ever change that fact. Peter knew it and deep down, so did Gabriel.

Gabriel pursed his lips tightly together in frustration. He could easily enter the apartment complex through the use of his powers. He outstretched his arm, his eyes concentrating on the lock. He hesitated for a moment as he felt his pulse throb in the wrist he was about to flick to open the doors. Peter stressed that the powers were a gift...but only if they were used for good. Gabriel often followed Peter's lead as to when the use of a power was right or not. But Peter wasn't here...and Gabriel had so acutely felt the hunger again today, throbbing against his senses like the continuous perverse wave of want that it was. It was dangerous to give into using his powers now, after he had brushed up against his addiction so powerfully today.

_But that's why it was so important that Gabriel make things right with Peter. Because without Peter, Gabriel was weak...and hungry...and really hadn't changed very much at all. He was still that lonely, angry young man that cursed at the world. He was still filled with a hot rage that begged to be taken out on everyone else; because it hurt too much to focus it on the one person it was truly intended for: himself._

His eyes narrowed with intensity as he gave a small flick of his wrist. The lock to the building slid open and Gabriel silently walked through the double doors.

Angela had moved out of the lavish Petrelli mansion and had taken to a much smaller and simpler apartment. Peter had mentioned that after his father's and then Nathan's death, the mansion seemed much too large and empty for her to stay in. It was also filled with unpleasant memories...and more than a few unwelcome ghosts of the past.

Gabriel sighed, hating this feeling too. Breaking into someone's house...slinking into the complex with inhuman stealth and subtly. He had done this before..._when he had still been a monster_. But he wasn't a monster anymore; he kept reassuring himself...trying to make things right between himself, Peter, and Angela was a sure sign of that.

_Are you really trying to make things right? Or is that anger you've carried around with you for so long finally ready to erupt? You want to make Angela pay for what she's done to you. You want to see her gone so that Peter will only have you left in his life._

_No more father._

_No more brother._

_Just a mother._

Gabriel gritted his teeth as he angrily tried to silence his overactive mind. He bounded up the stairs, passing a heavyset man without as much as a pause to step out of the man's way. He knew the man was glaring at him for his rudeness, but Gabriel found he didn't care. He could hear Angela's heartbeat now..._it was slow and steady as if she were asleep. That would make it easier to enter. But it also made it all the more sinister feeling somehow..._

Gabriel paused to catch his breath as he reached the top of the stairs, his eyes turning towards Angela's apartment door. He could feel his own heartbeat pick up in his chest..._oh god, he hated her. He had forgotten how much he hated her. Peter had made him forget so many terrible things with his tender love, his soft kisses, his gentle caress. Now those things were gone and Gabriel began to remember everything else instead. He remembered hunger, and hatred, and seething anger, and being a lost, scared child that was ready to lash out at the world..._

Releasing a low hiss, Gabriel clicked open the lock to Angela's apartment. He hesitantly pushed open the door, feeling a rush of adrenaline and nerves wash over his system. The apartment was eerily silent as he peeked into the dark shadows. Taking in a small breath, Gabriel stepped inside. _God, what would Peter think? But this was all for Peter's sake, he had to remember. This was about making things right..._

_It was about making Angela go away. To leave them alone. To cut Peter off from the rest of the world so that it didn't matter if they loved each other in secret or not._

Gabriel blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness that enshrouded the room. There was a table with three chairs around it, as if Angela was still expecting both of her boys to come home for dinner someday. The apartment wasn't anything like Peter's was starting to look again..._messy and slightly disorganized when it wasn't for Gabriel's help_...no, instead it was pristine and very cleanly. There was not a dirty dish in the sink or a single item that appeared out of place. _It reminded him of his own mother...his own childhood home_.

He cautiously ventured in further, slightly certain that Angela was indeed asleep at the moment. _Her heartbeat remained steady and restful_. There was a buffet that was lined with pictures of her two sons. Her husband, Arthur, was nowhere amongst the memories, but that wasn't surprising in the least. _It hadn't exactly ended well between them, Gabriel reasoned_.

He wasn't supposed to be here..._Angela's heart resounding louder now that he was nearer to the bedroom. This was wrong...he was an intruder in her home...the boogeyman, right?_

_No, no._ This was all for Peter...for making things right for Peter. Peter had hurt for so long. Gabriel had broken so much in Peter's life; he needed to fix this one thing for the young man. These thoughts percolated in Gabriel's mind as he noticed a picture of Peter on Angela's buffet. He was a young boy, barely out of his toddler years. He looked so young and precious, boyish smile still quirked on his face with the expressiveness of youth. A mop-head of dark, brown curls cascaded down his chubby face.

Gabriel gave a small smile, as he reached out to gently touch the picture. _He missed Peter so much. Oh, he wanted to hold Peter so badly right then._

He wondered what Peter was doing right now. The young man was probably getting ready for bed..._he'd let Claire have his room as he camped out on the couch_. Gabriel wandered towards the next picture of Peter as a young man. He wasn't smiling in this picture, but his eyes held that intent gentleness that never went away.

_Peter would have changed into his sweatpants and white T-shirt by now. The shirt clung to his body in a wonderful manner; accentuating the lean strength in his chest and back. He would be lying on the couch, a hand pressed to his forehead, as dark hair fell into his sharp eyes._

_The couch he and Gabriel had made love on before. Gabriel smiled faintly at the memory; Peter having been the one to take charge that night. Gabriel had been leaning against one of the arms of the couch, reading his newspaper diligently as Peter absentmindedly watched the nightly news report. Something seemed to have sparked playfulness in the young man, however, as he had soon fluidly crawled the length of the couch and had slid his form between Gabriel's long legs. Peter had begun teasing Gabriel dreadfully: soft, full lips pressing into the side of Gabriel's face, his ear, neck, clavicle, chest...soon Gabriel could hardly breathe, Peter's hands having found Gabriel's belt as he began quickly working it off of the taller man. Gabriel had tried to get some of his own kisses and touches in, but Peter was quickly taking his presence of mind away. Instead, Gabriel found that it was much more pleasant to simply allow Peter to have his way that night: he found himself gasping and biting into the couch's pillow as Peter moved sensuously over him from behind; the feel of Peter's lean, tight form gliding against him again and again as his strong arms trembled on either side of Gabriel's shuddering frame._

Gabriel drew his hand away from the picture of Peter and pressed it against his lips. _God, he missed Peter._ He couldn't waste any more time...he had to talk to Angela.

_And what would he tell her? What was he planning on accomplishing this dark, rainy night? What if something went wrong...what if something very bad happened...like it had when he had went to visit his mother years ago..._

Gabriel paused, his ears perking up slightly. The heartbeat..._Angela's heartbeat_...it had spiked sharply. She had awoken from her sleep..._perhaps she had dreamed of him coming_. Gabriel turned his back towards the buffet as a cold, numbing feeling seeped into him. It was as if he were outside in the storm..._the rain pouring down steadily now_...as he felt quite drenched from head to foot as he stood, frozen in awkward anticipation for Angela to find him.

_What would he say to her? He had murdered her son...and Peter said she would never forgive him for that. Nothing he could say, nothing he could do could change the fact that Nathan was dead because of him. But he could convince her to stay away...to stay away forever...that both her sons were gone from her now and she only had herself to blame._

Her footsteps quickened as she rounded the corner. Gabriel steeled himself...some of his anger seeping out of him as he realized how frightened she would soon be to see him. He was feeling something else now much more acutely..._fear_. Angela scared him still. She was a mother after all..._he almost wished that she was his mother_...and she was capable of anything in the name of defending Peter.

_But so was he._

She was beautiful, just like he remembered. Her long raven hair had been let out for nighttime and it cascaded down her slim shoulders in waves. She was wearing a long, yet simple nightdress that swept down her form and stopped at the floor. A dark, purple shawl was wrapped around her for warmth. Her eyes were sharp and piercing like Peter's..._but not nearly so gentle and tender. _But they still held so many of the beautiful color's that his eyes held..._and right now they were a glowering, dark green and a biting, fierce gold._

"My god." She hissed, her hands rising up to press into the base of her throat..._the imagery was chilling. _"Sylar."

His bravado, his certainty, his burning rage was dissipating. Gabriel sucked in a deep breath; his insides trembling readily as he felt his whole body take a nervous step backwards. He felt himself bump lightly into the buffet, the pictures rattling in response.

"Angela." He replied, his voice grasping for calmness but only coming out low and strained. He tried to keep his own gaze focused on hers, but he was faltering. _Her eyes were so much sharper than Peter's...and colder._

"What are you doing here?" Angela demanded, an icy harshness seeping into her tone. She was frightened, but she was holding her ground with fervent determination..._Peter was more like his mother than Gabriel had ever realized_. "Where's Peter?"

"He's home." Gabriel breathed out, thankful to be able to put some of her worries at ease. "He...he doesn't know that I'm here."

"I dreamt you would come to me." Angela responded, her lips pressing together tightly. Her eyes flashed towards the door, as if trying to determine how he had gotten into the apartment. Her gaze turned back to burn into him; a dark and ferocious hatred was present and clawing to get out of her. "Something had happened to Peter."

_Peter. _At the mention of the young man's name, Gabriel felt some of his fire stoked once more. _She was trying to take Peter away from him._

"Are you sure that it was all a dream?" Gabriel pressed, stonily as he took a cautious step towards her. He could feel her disgust for him roiling off of her in waves. "Because a little bird told me that you were actually spying on us."

"Jennifer told you." Angela deduced, succinctly. Her eyes darted towards the kitchen, and Gabriel knew that she was looking for some sort of weapon to use against him.

"This doesn't have to get violent." Gabriel retorted..._the flames licking against his heaving chest once more_. "This isn't about what happened between you and me anymore, Angela. This is about Peter."

"I'd be very careful saying my son's name right now." Angela hissed, her eyes narrowing as Gabriel continued to slowly stalk towards her.

"He made me a good person." Gabriel murmured, his voice becoming like ice as he turned to circle around her. Her eyes followed him everywhere...and he could feel every ounce of the hatred that she was stabbing into his skin. _It was taking all her strength not to come at him right now with merely fists. But she had to listen...he would make her listen tonight. _"He showed me how to be a hero. Which is lucky for you, considering what I've found out you've been up to."

Gabriel paused, a sick want to punish her flitting across his mind. He pressed his lips closer to her ear. "You're up to your old tricks again, aren't you?"

"Get away from me." Angela seethed, her composure flickering away for only a moment. But her mask was as well practiced as his and tonight it would be a battle of wills. _Their well-practiced masks were the one thing that Peter had never understood even though the two people he loved the most had mastered them. _"I want you to leave me and Peter alone. Forever."

"I would love to leave you alone." Gabriel conceded, pulling back in his proximity. "Believe me, nothing would make me happier. But I'm afraid I'm not going to leave Peter alone. You see, things have changed quite a bit since you last tried to tear my life apart."

"Nothing has changed." Angela spat, her body posture still strong and steady. "You're still just a scared little boy trapped in a man's body."

"I've changed more than you'll ever know!" Gabriel snapped, bitingly. _And the words were said to convince himself just as much as they were to convince her._ "I've changed for the good. I'm never gonna hurt anyone ever again...and I'm..." Gabriel closed his eyes as an onslaught of emotions threatened to tear through him once more. _He had to say it. He had come here in part to say it. _"I'm _sorry_ that I took Nathan away from you..."

He hadn't expected her to slap him across the face. _But he should've, after all of the punches he had received from saying those exact same words to Peter. Peter was more like his mother than Gabriel had ever realized._

Gabriel brought a hand up to lightly touch where his cheek burned crimson from where she had struck him. He glared at her accusingly.

"Don't say _his _name." Angela mouthed, her eyes now dark and glassy even as her tears refused to fall. "You don't say _his _name at all tonight."

Gabriel nodded, slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you here?" Angela demanded, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "And what happened to Peter? I know that there was a fight."

Gabriel felt his mouth grow dry as he tried fruitlessly to wet his parched lips. "Peter is fine." Gabriel placed a hand against his heart, urging Angela to understand the most important thing that he was trying to convey by reaching out to her tonight. "But there's something you _need _to know. That you need to realize."

Angela narrowed her eyes, her breathing growing shallow as she watched him closely.

Gabriel felt his courage falter, but he knew he had to press on. _In order to make things right for Peter. _He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes averting towards the floor. "Your son. I love..._love_ him. I love Peter. And he...he loves me. He lovesme and..."

"Peter doesn't love you." Angela hissed, her voice drained of emotion once more. She had cut him off so suddenly and with such disregard for his words, that Gabriel almost felt as if he had been slapped again. "He's just very confused right now. You will never see him again and he will get better."

Her words beat upon his soul. _Peter doesn't love you._

_No. No, Gabriel had too many memories proving the contrary. Those memories...past, present, it didn't matter...those were all real. And they spoke of love, even someone as broken and messed up like Gabriel could recognize that._

"No, you're wrong." Gabriel intoned, as he raised his palm upward as if seeking the forgiveness he knew she would never grant him. "I know I hurt you and your family. But I'm different now. Your son showed me how to be a good person."

"You're a monster." Angela hissed, a small mirthless smirk escaping her. "A monster. And you will never lay a hand on any of my children again."

"Peter forgave me. He forgave me for everything even though I know I don't deserve it." Gabriel replied, a ferventness grabbing a hold of him. _She had to believe he had changed. Peter couldn't be the only one who saw the change in him...Gabriel was a good person now. That had to be apparent...it had to be painfully clear that he had changed, didn't it?_

"I don't believe that any more than you do." Angela whispered, her eyes as dark as coal as she was the one to now take a purposeful step forward. "I know my son. He loved and adored his brother. And he doesn't have the capacity to forgive you for what you've taken away from him. And you know that too. You know that he will forever hate you even if he tries to convince you and himself otherwise..."

"NO, LISTEN!" Gabriel raged, grabbing her by the wrists and forcefully yanking her forward. Angela was practically jerked off of her feet, her head snapping back as she found herself inches from Gabriel's contorted face; his hot breath splaying across her stony features. "No, no...you need to listen to _me_ now."

"Peter _hates _you for what you did to this family." Angela reiterated, ignoring his plea as her wrists trembled helplessly in his strong grasp. "I know my son."

"Well, you obviously don't know him quite as well as you think." Gabriel snapped, his voice laden with sarcasm as he drew her body flesh against his own. _She was shaking now...she was terrified. He was glad...she had said such awful, awful things just then. She deserved this. _"I mean, for one thing...he _lies._ Did you know that? Although he probably learned from the best..."

Angela pursed her lips together; the glassiness seeping into her unwavering gaze once more as she tried to control the trembling of her form.

"How many times did you call him to come over, Angela?" Gabriel pressed, throwing her away from him as he stalked back towards the buffet. "Let me know if any of these responses sound familiar. _'You can't come over today, Ma. I'm really busy.'_ Or maybe, '_I have to work a late shift tonight.' _And of course, let's not forget, '_No, I'll come over to your place later_.' Is that why you got Jennifer to help you? Were you starting to hear some of yourself in him whenever your sweet, honest little boy began lying to you with such ease?"

Gabriel turned to face her once more. She wasn't looking at him any longer, her gaze boring back into the kitchen. _Still desperate to kill him, he was certain._

"He didn't want you over because I was there." Gabriel hissed, hoping that every revelation was hitting her as roughly and painfully as possible. _He wanted her to feel out of control and helpless for once just like she had always made him feel_. "I was staying with him almost every day."

Angela shut her eyes tightly as if to not see him would somehow be able block out his ruthless words. In an instant, however, they flashed open again. "He's sick, did you know that? Peter's not well and hasn't been for a while now. He suffers from manic depression. It gives you a false sense of grandeur. It makes him think he actually has the ability to _save _you." Angela's hands clenched into fists at her side as her shawl slipped from of her shoulders and fluttered silently to the floor. "And he thinkshe's in love with you but he's actually just suffering from a manic high. Now tell me...is _that_ really what you want from him?"

Gabriel closed his eyes in annoyance as his ability to detect lies buzzed angrily against his consciousness. _This was tiresome. Their interaction...it was as if they were forever stuck in the past together. She was lying and he was cruelly demanding and there was not a shred of truth or goodness to be found between them. This isn't what he wanted for tonight...he had changed, damn it!_

"_Please._" Gabriel begged, his own fists coming down to grip onto his pant legs with waves of anxiety. "God, _please_...just stop lying to me!"

"Then what do you want from me?" Angela cried, and he saw a side of her he had never seen before. _She had always been a stonewall of emotion. But that was before he had taken her baby from her. That was before he had ripped Nathan away. Now she was broken...she was just as broken as him...he had stolen all from her and laid her bare._

"I just want you to leave me and Peter alone." Gabriel responded, his eyes narrowing at her in determination.

"I don't want to hear you say my son's name anymore." Angela breathed out heavily, her jaw tightening as she spoke.

_Oh, he had just as much of a right to say Peter's name as she did. Maybe even more of a right, considering that he had never __lied __to Peter. He had never __manipulated__ Peter..._

"Does Peter even realize what a monster his own mother truly is? When I tell him about Jennifer he's not going to want anything to do with you ever again." Gabriel seethed; bringing himself back around to Angela..._circling her like a wolf circles its trapped prey once more_. "How do you think he'll react to that fact that you manipulated a young girl to spy on him? A young girl with a power, I might add..." Gabriel paused, placing one heavy hand on her shoulder. "Now, did you warn her about me? Let her know that you sent her after someone that you think is an irredeemable monster? Something tells me not..."

Angela closed her eyes once more, and he knew his touch was causing her to falter again. "Do you want to know, Angela?" He hissed, darkly in her ear. "Do you want to know what I did to her once I found out?"

Angela remained silent, but he could see the worry painted clearly in her eyes. She was scared..._she was scared that her soul had more than ever to answer for on judgment day now._

"Why don't you take a wild guess?" Gabriel seethed, taking his hand off of her once more. She slumped visibly. "What do you think I did to that poor, innocent girl?"

_He was punishing her. Yes, he had changed but she would never see it. Peter was right, she was without mercy because she was just a coldhearted monster herself. If she was incapable of forgiveness, then he would be content with making her pay._

"Where's my son?" Angela murmured, her face growing weak and weary. "You _hurt _him, didn't you?"

Gabriel glanced away in shame. _Yes, he had hurt Peter._ But so had _she_, why couldn't she understand that? He had to stay strong..._he had to focus on the real reason he had come here._

"I want you to leave me and Peter alone." Gabriel stated again pitifully, his hands taking to clutching at his sides as if to ground himself once more. _He was certain he both sounded and looked pathetic. But she was doing no better. Peter was both of their weaknesses_. "Please...just please leave us alone. We've all suffered enough, haven't we?"

"No." Angela murmured, eyeing him contemptuously. "Some of us haven't."

"You don't think I've suffered?" Gabriel demanded, the rage and torment churning within him once more..._for himself, for himself...he always hated himself. _"I have seen all of Peter's tears and pain. And I have to live with the fact that it's because of _me _that he's hurting and..." Gabriel trailed off, something heavy getting stuck in his throat. He swallowed heavily, unwilling to meet Angela's eyes. "And you're _not _God. You don't get to decide whose worthy of salvation and who isn't."

"You need to stay away from Peter." Angela warned, her features becoming tight and controlled once more. His own slight venture into hysteria seemed to have had the opposite effect on her. "Listen to yourself talk. You're _hurting _him. You don't _want _to hurt Peter anymore. Now do you, Gabriel?"

"No. No, I don't." Gabriel whispered, his eyes stuck on the ground. It was raining outside and another storm was brewing in his heart. All he could see..._over and over again_...was Peter slamming into that wall. He had hurt Peter..._god, why did he keep hurting Peter?_

"I believe you, Gabriel." Angela murmured, soothingly. He leapt, surprised when he felt soft hands lightly touch his back. She was _comforting _him..._like a mother would_. "I believe you when you say that you don't want to hurt Peter anymore. But don't you understand? Being with Peter is what's hurting him. You need to let Peter go. You need to let him move on and heal now. If you really love him, you're going to do the right thing."

"But he loves me. I just have to stop messing things up..." Gabriel shook his head, hopelessness rising up and threatening to drown him. Nothing was happening the way he had meant it to..._wasn't he supposed to be showing her what a good person he was...how good he had been to her son...how someday she could come to love him like family again... _"If I can make things right, Peter's gonna be so happy with me. I can do it...I know I can make him happy..."

"Gabriel, stop hurting Peter." Angela insisted, her hands continuing to comfortingly caress his back. Her hands were warm..._he didn't want her to take them away. He had felt so lost and alone these past few days without Peter...he had been so desperate for connection again._

Gabriel pursed his lips together resolutely; hot tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. He wouldn't allow them to fall, though..._not in front of Angela_. "I _know _that I can make this right. I've...I've _changed_..."

"Then you can't be selfish anymore." Angela insisted, softly. "Let Peter go."

_God, was that truly the only answer? But what about his memories...three years worth of those damn memories from hell...didn't those prove that destiny demanded that he and Peter be together? Or had it always been Gabriel desperately grabbing at straws in order to convince himself that he...the murderer, the villain, the messed up, twisted angry young man...somehow deserved something good and beautiful like Peter._

_His beautiful Peter. Eyes like waves of amber and dark chocolate. Lips like scathing fire and soothing rainwater combined into one. Mercy that bathed Gabriel in sweet holy water daily._

"_I love you." Peter had whispered in the hushed, safety of the night, his fingers threading through Gabriel's dark mane with a sweet tenderness._

"No." Gabriel hissed, pulling away from her touch as his dark, brown eyes flashed with wild intensity. "No, that's what _you _want. That isn't what Peter wants."

Angela scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest as a means of self-preservation. _And Gabriel could see the look in her eyes now...she was disgusted that she had ever had to touch him. The comfort...calling him Gabriel...god, she had been manipulating him __again__..._

"I've _changed_." Gabriel whispered, desperation seeping into every word he spoke. "Your son sees that, why can't you?"

Angela rounded on him, her eyes sharp and heated once more. _Gone was the act of loving mother. _"Because you remind me of a mouse that Peter tried to save as a boy. It was a sick, pathetic, and wretched little creature. Peter thought that he could nurse it back to health. But there was something so severely wrong with it that the only humane thing to do was to put it out of its misery. And that's exactly what you remind me of. A sick, disgusting little mouse that Peter's trying to save."

Gabriel stumbled backwards, his hands rubbing at the sides of his pants. _Why couldn't she see that he had changed? He was a good person...he was a good person..._

_No, he was still just a lost, angry young man. It takes a long time to exorcise all of one's demons and Gabriel had more than a lifetimes worth. Angela's words had reawakened the volcanic burn within him that demanded a release, lest he set himself aflame from within._

"That's a cute story." Gabriel hissed, mocking her in order to shield himself from the realness of the pain. "You know, I've got a cute story too. It's almost like yours, only...did Peter spend more time with the sick mouse than with you? Because that's what happens in my story. And did Peter spend the night with the mouse, 'cuz that kinda happens in my story too..."

"You bastard..." Angela seethed; the emotionless expression on her face now made all the more dangerous by the small, mirthless smile quirking her lips.

Gabriel rushed a trembling hand through his mess of dark hair. _That hadn't been the right thing to do. Peter wouldn't have wanted him to do that. God, everything was falling out from underneath him. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong..._

"Angela, I don't want to play this game with you." Gabriel insisted, reaching out to grab onto her arm..._to grab onto something, because he could feel himself blowing away. _"I don't want us to hurt each other anymore. I know you don't want to hear it, but you have to. I love Peter and nothing will change that. And I am _sorry..._I am so sorry for the pain that I've caused you by taking Nathan away from you..."

She had warned him not to say Nathan's name again and her reaction was instantaneous. It was as if she was the lightening that had lit up the stormy night skies just outside the windowsill. Because one minute, Gabriel had seen Angela standing before him in composed silence; her entire form stoic and unmoving. But the next minute, she had pulled a small knife out of the top of her nightshirt and had lunged towards his head.

She was roaring with rage and grief as she plunged the knife into his body again and again..._searching for that one spot that would fell him for good_...and he could feel the pain coming over him in continuous waves even as his body tried to rapidly heal each and every wound that she was gouging into him. Hot blood coursed into his mouth as he tasted and smelled his own death fast approaching him.

"Don't say his name!" She cried out, and this time she aimed to pierce the center of his forehead with her blade. "You killed my son, you bastard!"

Gabriel reached up to grab onto her arm..._to still the knife from reaching its target_...but as soon as he did so..._as soon as he began wrestling to get the weapon out of her hand..._he was plagued by dark and gut wrenching memories of himself and his own mother.

_They were fighting over the sewing scissors...and somehow she had stumbled into him...or he had pulled her, it was so hard to remember all of the sickening details...and the scissors had found her heart...he had killed his own mother..._

In the midst of their struggle, his eyes met hers briefly and he understood. She was bent on killing him tonight and that had been her plan all along. This had been about Nathan just as much as it had been about Peter. He had stolen one of her babies from her...he would die before she ever let him have the other one. Maybe she had always expected Jennifer to tell him the truth...maybe she had always expected Gabriel to come to her tonight. Maybe she had truly dreamt the whole thing and had fully manipulated this meeting into happening.

_And both were struggling with more than the knife now. There was a lifetime's worth of regret and anger present in this battle as well as a need for some sort of self-redemption. More than that, they were fighting over their love for the same man. They were fighting over Peter, but there was a cruel irony present in that. Because whoever won tonight would almost certainly go on to lose him forever. _


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_Peter's eyes had changed. Nathan knew that look. It was the look that Peter got when he was stuck between feeling angry and scared; powerless to change the facts of the situation that had been laid out before him. And Peter hated being powerless in every sense of the word._

_After escaping the hospital where Matt was being kept, the brothers had taken to flying back to Peter's apartment. Both had been unusually quiet since then...and it was all of the unsaid words that had led to the increasingly thick tension that now permeated the room._

"_This family was built on lies." Nathan murmured, drinking deeply from the liquor bottle. Alcoholism had unfortunately run in the Petrelli family, what with their grandfather having privately struggled with the disease until his death and Nathan himself going through a period of four months in which he was rarely sober. Nathan had believed Peter to be dead after they had averted the explosion in New York...but now he drank because it was himself that he imagined was no longer among the living._

"_We don't know that Matt was telling us the truth." Peter hissed, pressing his fist against the doorframe of his room before placing his forehead flesh against it. Nathan remained sprawled on Peter's bed, tenderly nursing his bottle of scotch. "Nathan, you really shouldn't drink that whole bottle..."_

"_How can it hurt me?" Nathan spat, a heated anger rising up within him once more. He was feeling increasingly antagonistic...against his mother...against Peter...__ himself_..._god, something was very wrong. There was a wave of perversion that seemed to be infiltrating his mind; his brain being twisted by dark forces. "You know the truth, Peter. You need to stop lying to yourself and to me."_

"_Stop it, Nathan." Peter begged...__but only because he knew that Nathan was right.__ Peter took a moment before turning to face his brother, his face rigid with anxiety as he ground his jaw tightly. "We're gonna figure this out together, alright? And then we're gonna..."_

"_Do you remember when you asked me how you make someone else happy?" Nathan whispered, staring deeply into his off-color bottle. __He couldn't look into Peter's eyes...they were so piercing...and he was feeling so weak and vulnerable._

"_What are you talkin' about..." Peter began in frustration, but Nathan quickly cut him off. __Peter couldn't believe a lie. They had all believed in the lies for too long now._

"_When you were sixteen. You asked me how you make someone else happy...during relationships, intimacy, life." Nathan took another deep swig from the bottle...it burned his throat all the way down. He finally got enough strength to look back up at Peter...__Peter's face was ashen, his lips parted in worry even as his eyes continued to smolder__. "And I said it all just worked itself out, remember?"_

"_Nathan..."_

"_I lied to you, Pete." Nathan shook his head, a large lump settling heavily in his throat. He tried to swallow, but that only made it worse. It choked him, but he struggled to continue speaking...__everything had to be said because there was no longer time left in which to say it__. "It doesn't work itself out. You have to fight like hell to make things work with the people you love. And I didn't. And I failed everyone... Heidi, my boys, Meredith..." Nathan gave a loud snort, his face turning away from Peter's in disgust for himself. "Claire...Ma...__you__."_

"_You didn't fail us, Nathan." Peter hissed, and the anger fiercely tinged his tone once more. "You kept us all strong. And now, I need you to be strong one more time for me. So that we can figure out what the hell is goin' on and..."_

"_What's going on is that I'm Sylar." Nathan snapped, his eyes darting back up to Peter's in frustrated defiance. "Nathan died and he never made things right. I was just a coward that kept running...that kept expecting everything to fix itself in the end. Well, the end comes a lot sooner then you expect it too, huh?" Nathan raised his bottle before swilling another long drink. He paused, pressing his forehead sleepily against the cold glass. "All that time I had always planned I'd still have...when I was gonna make things right with Claire...when I was gonna start being a good father to both her and my boys...when I was finally gonna tell you how proud I've always been of you...I don't get those years back, do I?"_

"_Nathan." Peter seethed, his arms crossing over his chest tightly. He leaned up against the doorframe, the tendon in his jaw clenching and unclenching. "__Please__..."_

"_I'm tired, Pete." Nathan whispered, and his eyes closed as the full extent of the pain washed over him. His wiped his wrist across the forehead; he hadn't even noticed the sweat that had beaded on it until the cuff of his shirt came away damp. "I'm so tired..."_

_Peter remained silent, his eyes filling with all of the pain that Nathan was feeling inside. He finally gave a small nod, his eyes hard and focused. "I know. But I'm gonna stay right here with you all night, okay?"_

_Nathan nodded, slowly. __He wanted all the time back he had wasted pushing Peter away from him; all the useless energies he had expended in hurting Peter, in damaging their relationship. He wanted one last chance to say all the words he had always meant to say._

_But instead, there was simply silence...and more drinking...__to drink the pain away__...and Nathan eventually crossed over into the territory of being too drunk to remember when he had fallen asleep that night and when he had awaken the next morning._

_But it was with a throbbing headache that Nathan finally opened his eyes, bolting upright in bed. By the looks of things; he had slept through most of the day. He was still in Peter's room, scotch bottle firmly in hand, and there was a hushed murmuring of noises that emanated from the living room._

_It was Peter's voice that finally cut through the fog like a beam of light, his husky tone growling out, "What did you do, Ma? Is my brother really dead?"_

_Nathan rushed a hand over his face. He remembered everything he had tried to make the liquor chase away. __His mother was here. She had done this...she had turned him into some sort of monstrous creation. He hated her for that...he hated her so much. She was always pushing him somehow...manipulating him...lying to him...but today she was going to give him answers. Or else...or else he might be forced to do some very unpleasant things in response._

_Nathan pushed himself to Peter's doorframe, his eyes zeroing in on his mother as her small frame came into focus. Peter was staring at her too...__and he was looking angrier now that he thought Nathan wasn't there._

"_That's right, Ma." Nathan agreed, watching as Angela turned around in surprise to see him. "We're all waiting to hear about that."_

"_Happy Thanksgiving, Nathan." Angela replied, her warmth masking the uneasiness that was settling just below her exterior. "So, if you two will just help me set the table we will sit down like a family and we will discuss everything."_

_Nathan and Peter glared at Angela with similar misgivings. The look on Peter's face was all Nathan needed to see to know...__Peter didn't believe her. Matt's story had made sense to him too. God, it was all true then...what had she done...?_

_In a sudden impulse of anger and impatience, Nathan felt himself reach out to forcefully grab onto Angela's wrist._

"_Ow!" Angela gasped, and Nathan saw Peter's face shroud in surprised concern._

_Nathan wouldn't have done that. Nathan never grabbed his mother in such a violent, impatient fashion. Oh, god...he wasn't Nathan...he wasn't Nathan..._

"_Let go of me, Nathan." Angela commanded, a familiar hardness now entering her voice and eyes._

_Nathan never would have done that__. Nathan sucked in a deep breath, but something within him urged him to continue. "Answer him." He insisted, heatedly._

_Peter didn't like that. Peter knew Nathan wouldn't do that. Peter knew...Peter knew...Peter always knew..._

_Angela turned to face Nathan, her voice brimming with an icy ultimatum. "It's Thanksgiving and you are my family and we will sit down like a family as we do every year or I will leave here and you will never hear from me again. Your choice."_

_Peter's eyes still followed him closely. Nathan didn't like that...didn't like to see the doubt swimming in those hazel orbs. Why wasn't Peter angry at Angela too? Why didn't he want to make her pay for all the pain she had inflicted upon the both of them...?_

_Nathan released Angela's wrist, blinking up at Peter as he did so. __It was Peter this time who couldn't hold the gaze, turning to walk away suddenly.__ Angela quickly followed after her youngest son...__she had always loved Peter best, after all. Peter got to be a hero while Nathan was forced into politics and power games that drove away everyone he had ever cared about. And that was Angela's fault...Angela's fault he was trapped in this body now...with all these damn memories that didn't belong to him...everything was Angela's fault..._

_Nathan closed his eyes in growing anxiety, a rush of adrenaline washing over him...drowning him. __Something had changed within him...physically, something was changing; he could feel it__. He wrapped his arms uncharacteristically around his chest before making his way towards the kitchen table._

_A silence had befallen the Petrelli family once more as everyone took their seats. There was a sense of distrust permeating every person present...even in silence, each family member held a carefully guarded air about them._

"_Okay, Mom, you got us here sittin' just like you wanted. So talk." Peter hissed, and Nathan knew that Peter was now struggling to keep his own temper in check._

"_Peter, where are your manners?" Angela chided, before turning to Nathan. "Nathan, would you please say grace?"_

_God, was she actually pretending as if nothing even had happened? She was playing some game while he was suffering. And for that he hated her...he hated her..._

"_No." Nathan replied simply, giving a small shake of his head._

"_It's Thanksgiving, Nathan." Angela reasoned, firmly. "It's the one day we should express our gratitude."_

"_What do I have to be grateful for?" Nathan demanded. __The anger was roiling through him like a dark tide now. It was an anger he was unfamiliar with...it was hot and sequestered and repressed and dying to detonate on everyone present in the room. __"I'm dead, he knows it, you know it." __Peter knew it. Peter's eyes were becoming increasingly dark and dangerous...Peter had looked at him like that so many times before...since...since Kirby Plaza...__ No, that memory was wrong, Nathan realized as he continued to ignore his inner turmoil and push forward. "Why don't you tell us why and put us all out of our misery?"_

_Angela hesitated, her cheery façade beginning to crumble._

"_Tell us." Peter urged, his voice growing softer as if empathizing with the immense anguish his mother must have been experiencing at that moment._

_That was good for Peter, but Nathan felt nothing but rage towards her. Nonetheless, he was surprised...and uncomfortable...when tears flooded her bright eyes._

"_I don't expect you to understand or approve of the decision I made but I hope you can keep an open mind and not condemn it." Angela gazed at both of her sons...__one watching with gentle, but fierce eyes...the other watching her quite murderously._

"_Sylar was going to be president." She continued to explain, her voice wavering slightly. "And you two had flown off to stop him at that hotel in Washington. And I had a dream about you, Nathan. I saw you fighting for your life. I also saw Matt Parkman save you. But I panicked and I went and found him and I dragged him to the hotel. But by the time I got there..."_

_Oh god...yes...yes..._

_He had thrown Sylar out the window...to save Peter...yes...to save Peter...because Sylar had been killing Peter...had been burning Peter...and then he had slit Nathan's throat...because...because he had wanted to hurt Peter...had wanted to hurt Angela...had wanted to cut the damn invisible thread because Peter never left him alone...he was always there with sharp, condemning, bright eyes...and demanding, beautiful lips..._

"_I was already dead." Nathan interrupted, coldly._

_Peter's breathing grew heavier as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place for him as well. Angela fought back her tears, but they shone vibrantly in her pained gaze...__it was always so disturbing to watch her cry.__ "I made Matt Parkman do it. This is the part where I ask you to forgive me." She gazed once more at both of her boys...tears staining her reddening eyes...certain her plea of forgiveness would be met on deaf ears._

_Neither had ever seen their mother like this before._

_There was a moment of uncertain silence. Peter's breathing had deepened; the heavy inhales and exhales the only disturbance in an otherwise perfect tranquility._

"_So that body we saw," Peter murmured, his voice low and choked as he burned his dark, amber gaze into Nathan's. "That was Nathan?"_

_Angela gave a sad smile. "Technically, yes. But as far as the world is concerned Nathan is still alive."_

_But no...because Peter already hated him. Nathan could see that in Peter's eyes. Peter couldn't live a lie. He was too honest and good for that...and that's what everyone always loved about Peter..._

"_Yeah, but I'm not me." Nathan replied, never taking his eyes off of his little brother._

"_It's your mind." Angela insisted, a needy desperation sinking into her tone. "You have your memories. You look exactly the same. You are Nathan Petrelli. You're my son, you're Peter's brother, and it's been this way for months..."_

_No, no, no. Peter's expressions told the whole story...beautifully expressive Peter...the disbelief and anger at his mother's incomprehensible words even now spilling fluidly from his dark features..._

"_And just because you know the truth, nothing has to change." Angela pressed, desperately...but even to herself she must've known that she was grasping pathetically at straws. "We are still a family."_

_Peter's gaze had shifted away from his mother...it was boring accusingly into Nathan now...into Sylar now. The hatred was meant for Sylar...__**the hatred is meant for me...I killed his brother...**_

"_To us." Angela insisted, lifting her glass. But no one paid her any attention...__because__the real battle was between the two Titans once more. The universe demanded that they fight to the death, neither ever able to escape the other. It was their destiny to be together forever._

_Peter glared over at her before allowing his eyes to avert towards the tabletop. When he raised them again towards Nathan...__he was ready to meet Peter's stare with equal intensity._

_Tonight this would end. Angela would die...and Peter...god, Sylar never knew exactly how to handle Peter. But he would...he would eventually find out exactly what it was that he wanted from the youngest Petrelli. Until then, he was at least certain in his decision that Angela needed to die...and she needed to die tonight..._

_Angela reached over and grasped onto Peter's larger hand. Peter jerked up in surprise, meeting his mother's pleading gaze. He stared at her, his lips pursed together in stony silence._

"_Peter..." Angela begged, her eyes searching his deeply. __For the love she hoped still resided in them...for the trust he had always granted her whether she was worthy of it or not.__ "Please..."_

_Peter slipped his hand away from hers. Her face fell as she scrambled to finish her sentence, "Please, Peter. Eat some of your food."_

"_Ma..." Peter hissed darkly, under his breath._

"_Fine, you're not hungry." She decided, rising abruptly from the table. "I'll go get dessert then. I made marshmallow pie...Nathan's favorite. But I know that we all enjoy it."_

_Peter pointedly ignored her, returning his fiery glare to Nathan's once more._

_But Peter was understanding...putting the pieces together...knowing how it had all worked out...Sylar wasn't really his brother._

_The seconds had felt like hours...the two men refusing to be the first to falter and glance away...they were caught in a deadlock of determination and willpower._

"_Who's ready for pie?" Angela asked, her voice trying to regain some of its warm and peaceful quality...__he wished to God she would just stop with the insulting insincerity so that they could all get this night over with._

_Peter...__eyes blazing...fist pressed roughly to cover his lips__...he wouldn't take his eyes off of Sylar. There was once a time in which Peter used to fear Sylar...but now Peter just hated him._

_Sylar missed Peter's fear...it had made him sweeter and more innocent...and Sylar had always liked that...but soft, innocence was so fleeting in a dark and hopeless world..._

_Angela glanced at both of her sons uneasily, before reaching for the knife that was set on the table. In an instant, Nathan stuck his hand out to encompass her own._

_It was time. He finally knew who he was...and so did they. It was partly in thanks to Peter; of course...Peter's hateful eyes had been so spitefully reawakening to Sylar._

"_Is there a problem, Ma?" Sylar asked with fake innocence, bringing his eyes up to lock onto hers with pointed emphasis._

_Angela didn't answer...__did she know...?__...and Peter was beginning to rock back and forth in his chair with fiery impulsiveness...__he knew...he knew his enemy by sight._

"_Some family." He scoffed, with sarcastic disbelief. "You look at me; you don't see your son. You see the man who killed your son."_

"_Don't be silly." Angela whispered, but the conviction had all but fled her voice._

"_You." Sylar continued, and he delighted in Peter's rage now...__hot and fluid like a scathing river of lava. Peter was so fierce, so heated...so caught up in a whirlwind of powerful emotions. And now his eyes were like daggers, his nose snorting heavy breaths. __"You don't see your brother." Sylar tilted his head to the side, quite satisfied in revealing the truth of the situation now. "That's because I'm not your brother."_

"_Nathan." Peter murmured, his voice low and gravelly._

"_Guess again." Sylar shot back, keeping his own voice just as dark._

"_Oh god, Sylar's in there with you, isn't he?" Angela gasped in horror, backing away from him quickly. Peter rose fluidly from his chair to stand by her side._

"_We never should have gone to Texas, Pete." Sylar murmured, his last mocking dig hitting its target as he softly raised his eyes to meet Peter's once more. __Nathan was angry...and Sylar was angry...every thought and memory mixing together and ripping through his being...but Nathan had to go away because no matter how angry Angela made him, he still loved her. She was still his mother and he sought to protect her. But she wasn't Sylar's mother...she was nothing to him...and all of Nathan's conflicting emotions had to just go away...had to be buried deep within his consciousness if Sylar ever wished to be free of the Petrelli family again..._

_Electricity started shooting out of Sylar's body, stunning him. Peter leapt to his feet and scooped his mother up into his arms. He pressed her body against the wall for safety as he selflessly used his own to be her shield._

_The pain was intense...it was assaulting. There was a demanding struggle...Nathan's memories wanted control...and Sylar wanted control...and each part of abstract thought that culminated within the shared brain fought to be able to influence the night as they saw fit. Sylar fell to his hands and knees in agony...he could hear Angela screaming Nathan's name in anguish...he could hear Peter warning her to stay back...god, the mental pain was almost worse than the physical...but Sylar was shocking himself...pumping voltage into his veins in some demented hope that it would silence whatever electrical impulses were firing off the thought that somehow he was Nathan Petrelli._

_He was Sylar damn it! He was Sylar..._

_He was Gabriel Gray...he was born in Queens, New York...he was Virginia Gray's son...he was a watchmaker...he had killed his own mother...he had murdered so many others...he had killed Nathan Petrelli...he was the only man that could stand toe to toe with Peter...he hated Angela...he was Gabriel Gray..._

_Sylar collapsed to the floor in an exhausted heap. __Nathan was gone...the memories were all still there...but the confusion...the hazy, penetrating fog that had gouged his senses...it was gone. Sylar was back...and he felt electrified in more ways than one._

_Sylar pushed himself onto his feet, a manic laugh escaping him. He heard Peter whisper a faint "no" at the full realization of what was about to take place._

"_It feels good to finally be me again." Sylar laughed, but his voice came out rough and grated...__he was seething with barely contained rage. But masks had always been his best of friends, especially as he stood now in front of the monster, Angela and that damned angel, Peter. He would be confident now, he would laugh and mock them now...and everything... EVERYTHING...would be within his control for once!_

_Sylar's eyes were instantly drawn to Peter...__Peter always commanded the most attention in a room__. Sylar watched eagerly as Peter's chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing now rough and belabored, his jaw tightly set, his eyes smoldering and intense. __Being angry was so much like having sex...he wondered if Peter had ever noticed that._

_Sylar grabbed a napkin and shoved it into his shirt with undue force. "What's for dinner? I'm starved."_

_A pleasant thought entered his troubled mind...with a flick of his hand two of the chairs turned towards Peter and Angela's direction with mocking invitation. Sylar placed his hands down on either side of the table. "Well? Sit. Let's eat...like a family, right?"_

"_I'll kill you, you son of a..." Peter growled as he began to take a threatening step forward, but Sylar was quick to silence him; shutting the young man's mouth by force with telekinesis._

"_It's Thanksgiving, Peter." Sylar murmured, a mirthless smile quirking his lips. "Let's all try and get along, shall we?"_

_Peter's gaze scorched him with unforgiving eyes. Sweet, Peter...the innocence was all but lost now. But Sylar was in control tonight...this was Sylar's game and Angela and Peter were merely just the chess pieces that he could move wherever he saw fit._

_It was all about toying with Angela now, her arrogance about to be duly punished. So he made her endure sitting through him eating her entire pie. He was soundly gorging himself, but that was the point...__that he got to take whatever he wanted for himself__. And it was deliciously vindicating to watch Angela squirm in her chair, her composure slipping away with every moment she was forced to sit at the same table as her son's killer...__and Peter's scorching hazel eyes were equally reinvigorating._

_Sylar shoved another piece of the marshmallow pie into his mouth...__it was good. Angela was a fantastic cook...but he had always imagined that she was. Aside from being the devil reincarnate, she had always seemed like the traditional mother._

_He greedily swallowed, closing his eyes in ecstasy as he did so. Finally, satisfied that he had kept them waiting in suspense for long enough, he breathed out, "I feel like I haven't eaten in months." Sylar turned to Angela with fake sincerity, "Mm...you think that's some kind of existential soul thing?"_

"_You have a soul?" Peter snapped, defiance ringing in his tone._

_Sylar glanced over at Peter in surprise. __Peter's words...had hit something a little realer than Sylar would ever care to admit.__ Nonetheless, he kept to his carefully constructed script, pointing his fork towards Peter as if conceding victory; a mirthless chuckle escaping him. Sylar slammed down his fork and knife, a new fire raging in his own dark eyes. "C'mon buddy." He leaned back in his chair, a hot anger pushing his words out from his throat. "That's the best you got? No big speeches about..." He moved forward, spreading his arms wide while snapping exaggeratedly, "Hope?"_

_C'mon, where's my innocent little Peter? He was almost fun...but not this...no, now you're just irritating me. __Sylar pushed himself closer to the young man, his voice dropping lower as he murmured, "Triumph of the human spirit?"_

"_Why don't you let me out of this chair and find out?" Peter allowed an angry half-smile to quick his full lips...his body was literally trembling with rage._

_Sylar bit back a groan. __He hated Peter...god, he wanted to just__...Sylar released a loud laugh as he turned his attention back to Angela...__he knew exactly how he felt towards Angela. He knew exactly what he wanted to do to her. She was the best place to direct his energies at the moment...Peter had always distracted him from him main purpose, but not tonight._

"_And you." Sylar pointed at Angela to laugh, before shooting Peter a knowing glance. He slowly brought his body down towards hers with a sudden, vicious intensity; his voice lowering to barely above a whisper. "You have raised the evil incarnate bar to an entirely new level. Thank you for giving me something to strive for."_

_Sylar gave a ghost of a wicked grin as he pushed himself sensually to his feet, his lips moving to press into Angela's. __Sylar could hear Peter's heartbeat throbbing in his sensitive ears...the way Peter grunted his revulsion at Sylar's perverse actions...Peter so helpless to do anything but watch...and Angela was so helpless to do anything but allow herself to be kissed..._

_Angela released a horrified squeak as Sylar finally pulled away._

"_All this talk of souls and spirits..." Sylar smiled dangerously, as he stalked around the table. He leaned in closer to Peter...__and the young man closed his eyes at Sylar's proximity. Ah, it was beautiful to have that kind of control over him now. __"...has my head spinning. I am not a religious man!" He exclaimed, his hands slamming down on the table with a loud __thud__. "But...there is one thing I do believe."_

_There was something new glistening in Peter's eyes...they were dark brown now, like gathering storm clouds over once calm waters. This was different than Kirby Plaza...Peter wasn't young and inexperienced anymore. This wasn't some idealistic rage that he was directing at Sylar for the mere fact that Sylar was the "villain". No, Peter was older now...and darker now. And he wanted to...to hurt Sylar very badly. He wanted to murder Sylar...to make Sylar scream as Peter drowned him in his own..._

"_Blood." Sylar concluded, turning to face Angela. __He knew what he wanted from Angela. He wanted Angela's blood soaking into his hands. __"Time to carve the turkey..." He hissed, his voice low and deranged, giving a soft chuckle at his own joke._

"_Get away from her!" Peter roared, but Sylar ignored him._

_Sylar...hurt. He was broken...so, so broken...and he needed something to make it all better...something soothing...something settling...something cutting...cutting...cutting..._

_And his mother was screaming out in pain and agony as that beautiful little bloody incision split across her forehead...and he remembered when she used to kiss his knee when he had fallen and scraped it...and he remembered when she used to tuck him into bed and tussle his hair with her hands...and he remembered that eventually she had grown distant...and colder...but so had he...and for that, he still remembered...he still remembered..._

"_What's happening?" Sylar demanded, his finger quivering as he stared down at in confusion._

_Angela seemed at a loss as well, but it was Peter that grabbed onto the hopeful realization. __Because Peter knew...Peter always knew..._

"_It's Nathan! He's in there." Peter breathed out._

_Sylar glared at him in disbelief, but Peter was annoyingly persistent as always. "C'mon, fight, Nathan."_

_A jolt of pain ricocheted up from Sylar's spine and into his brain. Peter's words had reawakened something deep and painful within him...the memory of Peter as a toddler barely able to walk...and how Sylar used to hold his hand to make sure that his younger brother would never stumble...would never fall...would never get hurt..._

"_Nathan's dead!" Sylar roared, throwing Peter's chair with the force of his mind so that it slid across the floor. The young man let out a grunt as he collided roughly with the wall. __Peter's words were like knives stabbing into his brain again and again..._

_And now the pain threatened to tear his mind to pieces. Something was ripping through his senses...__something was fighting him__...something that held thirty-eight years' worth of memories was screaming at him that this wasn't right...__this was wrong, wrong, wrong...!_

"_No, he isn't." Angela hissed. Sylar rounded back on her with ferocity, his finger outstretched to still cut at her, but his eyes were dazed and wild with confusion. She continued, emotions now bleeding from her words and features as she cried, "He's still in there. His spirit and his mind. They're fighting for his family!"_

_Sylar studied his shaking hand in disbelief. __This was all wrong. He was making his mother cry...he was making his brother hate him...no, no, no...those were NATHAN'S memories! Not his! He was Sylar!_

"_Nathan!" Angela screamed as Sylar released another roar of pain and rage. Peter was watching just as intently, breathing hard as he shouted, "C'mon Nathan!"_

_Gabriel Gray...Sylar...Zane Taylor...Isaac Mendez...Nathan Petrelli...he had been all of them at one point in time. But something had snapped now...__something had shattered in his consciousness. His mind was in shambles, his memories in pieces. He fell against the wall, struggling in agony, and every time Angela or Peter cried out Nathan's name...__**his**__ name...he felt himself spiral into further insanity..._

_Sylar crushed his hands against his spinning head. __He needed to kill Angela. He needed to see her blood spill for what she had done to him...! She had turned him into a monster, my god...__ He tried to slice her skull open once more...but something powerful jerked back his head instead...__a thousand arrows piercing him...this was his mother...this was his mother...he couldn't kill his own mother...my, god...the woman who had given birth to him, raised him, loved him..._

"_Nathan! Nathan, fight!" Angela cried out, urgently._

_She had turned him into a monster. She had taken his soul and had interjected it into this sick, son of a bitch. There was so much twisted perversion in this brain...so much messed up insanity...and he couldn't take it. It was killing him...god, it was slowly killing him..._

_Nathan looked up at his mother in horror...__his mother. She had pressed her lips to the scraped knee. She had cleaned it and bandaged it. But she had said that Petrellis don't cry. She had made it clear that, like his father and her, Nathan was not to feel. But Nathan did feel...and now he was scared...he was scared and torn apart and some sick, darkness within him was threatening to swallow him up and destroy his family..._

"_What have you done to me?" He gasped, breathing heavily._

_My god, Ma...what have you done to me?_

_And Angela's mask cracked as her features darkened with the full horror and knowledge of what she had done in the name of trying to save him. She looked quite beside herself...__and so helpless...__as she watched her eldest son with pained eyes that he knew closely mirrored his own._

"_Nathan?" Peter cried out, his voice also lost to hopeless desperation._

_But Nathan couldn't bear to be near any of them...__he cared too much and he had to run away__...he ran far away from all of them...knowing...__knowing__...that no matter where he went he couldn't run far enough away from the darkness that already was taking a hold of him once more...he squeezed his eyes as tightly shut as possible...__ he wasn't Nathan... he was Gabriel...Gabriel..._

_Sylar opened his eyes to find himself flying high above the Manhattan skyline...the wind stinging at his face as hot tears rushed to his heavily blinking dark eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder once more; trying to deduce if the whole experience had merely been some bizarre nightmare he had concocted in his mind._

_But then he saw it...he saw Peter standing at the windowsill; watching as Sylar flew away. Peter's lips were pressed tightly together, his chest still heaving, his hands clutching to the window as if he were about to leap from it...not caring whether he was able to fly or not._

_Peter's eyes were dark and glassy...__and filled with promises of torture and revenge. Peter was without mercy...Sylar had taken the one merciful soul left on earth and had ruined it...this was no dream. This was the ongoing nightmare of reality...the one in which everything precious that Sylar touched later ended up breaking and lying in ruin. _

_Sylar gulped down choked breaths, trying to clear his mind long enough to think...__to keep control of his thoughts, his memories...his identity._

_He needed to stop Peter...he needed to kill Peter...he needed to ruin Peter...__he needed to have Peter__...oh, he'd be damned if he ever knew exactly what it was that he needed to do with Peter Petrelli._

_He just...he just needed to get Peter out of his life forever. Because those hateful, smoldering eyes were killing him. They were killing him, just as Peter intended to do._

* * *

Peter jolted upright on the couch, his legs twisted in the coolness of his blanket. He felt sweat roll down his back and forehead as he pressed his hands firmly against his face. He groaned loudly, falling backwards against his pillow as he desperately tried to regain his breath.

_He had that same dream again...the one in which Gabriel had gone to confront Peter's mother. The one in which his mother tried to kill Gabriel. It was always so real...so different from all his other dreams...but he didn't have that power. He didn't have the power to dream the future and so he kept telling himself that it was impossible that he had just done so..._

Peter glanced over at the clock that hung from his living room wall. It was five past one in the morning. Peter rubbed his hand against his forehead as his thick, dark hair slipped down into his eyes.

This dream had been different from most. Peter had experienced dreams of its nature before..._but only when he was predicting the future...only when he had been wielding his mother's ability._

Peter pushed himself up onto his feet as he tried to soundlessly move his way into the kitchen. He was careful not to wake Claire as he slunk past his bedroom..._but the door remained closed and stillness continued to permeate the house_.

He opened his refrigerator door and was met by the sight of bottled water, relish, and a few packets of hot sauce...he sighed heavily, before grabbing a bottle of water. Gabriel always used to insist that they go shopping together whenever Peter's food supply ran too low...it seemed that left to his own devices, Peter often overlooked such simple necessities.

_There was work to be done and lives to be saved, after all, and Peter didn't have time to take care of himself. _But then Gabriel would explain that he needed to pick up some milk or frozen dinners at the grocery store..._and Peter would jump at the chance to go with him and soon Peter's apartment would be filled with food for both men. _Looking back on it now, Peter realized that in his own way, Gabriel was helping take care of the young man whenever he forgot to do so himself._ And Peter had become somewhat accustomed to his apartment filled with life again...fully furnished once more; a refrigerator stocked with food, cabinets that held assorted flavors of tea...their bareness only compounded the metaphorical emptiness that plagued the young man's heart tonight._

Peter took a drink of water to quench his parched throat, his dream still beating upon his consciousness. _It had been so real...if he had still retained all of his powers, he would be certain that he had indeed glimpsed into a terrible future. His younger self would've rushed off to his mother's house intent to avert disaster...but his older self was more than aware of the fact that rushing off anywhere sometimes only succeeded in propelling an unwanted future into action._

He hadn't seen the future, he was certain of that. _He had just dreamt what he feared was inevitable. _Peter placed his fingers to his forehead, rubbing it gingerly. Peter loved Gabriel more than anything..._but he loved his family more than anything too_...and he was certain that both of those things being so deeply opposed to the other was slowly tearing him apart inside.

Peter walked over towards his kitchen counter, wrapping his fingers on its peeling, wooden top lightly. He eyed his telephone with increasing worry; conflicting feelings whispering through him. _He wanted to be sure that Gabriel had stayed home tonight._

Not taking his sharp gaze away from the phone, Peter began replaying his own night over again in his head, having further talked with Claire about Gabriel. Her fears, her doubts..._her rage_...he had relived all of that through her. She had been insistent on calling him Sylar, and that had been difficult for Peter to hear once more. Because while Peter loved Gabriel..._the man Gabriel truly was now_...the name Sylar still seemed to hurt Peter deeply; its utterance still tearing open many of Peter's old scars and allowing them to freshly bleed.

"_He came to me, you know." Claire murmured, her eyes low and downcast as she hugged herself closely. She was sitting cross-legged on Peter's couch, her uncle sitting nearby with his own arms folded tightly across his chest._

"_He came to you?" Peter repeated uncertainly, an icy ache churning in his stomach._

"_He said that he wanted to be normal. That he didn't want to die alone." Claire explained, her voice soft but firm. "He said that he and I were a lot alike. Adopted. An ability that no one understood. He wanted to know why I had turned out okay but he had turned into a killer. He seemed sincere, but he was completely insane. He said if I didn't help him figure it all out that he was gonna hurt Gretchen."_

"_Ah, Claire, you shoulda told me." Peter groaned, his insides twisting into painful knots. _

"_No, because then you would've went after him." Claire replied, gazing up at Peter with knowing bright eyes._

_Peter hesitated before conceding with a small nod of his head. "So what happened?"_

"_He was so lost, so broken. He reminded me of a little kid...only more messed up." Claire gave a small, uncomfortable shrug of her shoulders. "I didn't want to listen to him. I just wanted to get out of there and make sure that Gretchen was okay. I don't know why he thought I was going to help him...he's always had this strange obsession with me."_

_Peter felt his jaw clench tightly together as his eyes hardened. Claire's words were churning the dark waters that were filling his mind. He didn't want to focus on their meaning too clearly...__why did Gabriel always insist on speaking to Claire above all of his other victims? Was it to assuage the obsession he had held for the one he had once craved most...had wished to become most...the girl who could never get hurt? Was it this strange need to be a part of a family that would never accept him?_

"_In some bizarre way he actually helped me to understand something though." Claire added softly, as volumes of blond hair fell over her shoulders. "He was so alone...he was trapped by abilities and lies and anger. It made me realize that I could become that too. I needed to trust people...to trust that I should love and be loved by others. That I should take control of my own destiny and use my ability how I wanted to use it."_

_Peter nodded, silence still permeating his being. He wasn't ready to speak yet, mainly because Claire's words had left him feeling numb all over again._

"_Maybe that was why we turned out different." Claire murmured, brushing some of her golden curls out of her eyes. "I'm still able to accept love and honesty in my life. But...I honestly don't know if he's capable, Peter. Not the Sylar I saw that day. We've seen him try and change before, but he always resorts back to violence the minute it suits him."_

_Peter shut his eyes...images of Gabriel's outstretched arm burning into the backs of his eyelids...Peter remembered hitting roughly against the wall when Gabriel had been so certain that the young man was ready to abandon him forever._

_After a moment's hesitation, Peter decided to pose the question he had initially been afraid to know the answer to. "Did he hurt you at all? Or Gretchen?"_

_Claire shook her head and Peter released the breath he hadn't even noticed he had been holding. She hugged herself again before replying, "Gretchen never even knew what he was up to. He had lied about taking her hostage."_

_Silence befell both of them. The only sound was a loud ticking from the clock that hung on the living room wall. Even that served as a reminder of Gabriel, and Peter bit at the inside of his cheek as he tried to hold back everything he wished to admit to Claire in the moment. Even if Claire would hate Peter for his relationship with Gabriel, it felt as if she deserved to know._

_Instead, Peter decided to address the problem of trusting Gabriel in the first place. "Look, Claire...I know he has problems...but..." Peter rushed his fingers though his hair, trying to push it back into place. "Hear me out, okay? I knew him when he was acting just like you're describing. When he was trying to change but he was still too busy blaming everything else for the way that he had turned out. It made me think the same thing...that even if he wants to change that he can't. That he's insane...he's hopeless."_

_Claire said nothing, but Peter was encouraged to see that she was quietly listening._

_Peter pressed on, saying words he had never said before...not even to Gabriel. "He's different now. He's carrying all of that guilt and regret on his shoulders. I know...sometimes when I look at him...he looks as if he's drowning. He's hurting...but not for himself. For all of the pain he's caused. For all of the families that he's torn apart." Peter swallowed hard, feeling the heavy lump that had settled in his throat. He gestured to Claire, insistently. "There was a time when he wanted to condemn himself to rotting in that mental prison. But that doesn't change anything. That doesn't fix anything. But saving people...helping people, like what he's doing now? That makes a difference. If he saves even one person's life that would've died...if he gets even one criminal off of the streets before they hurt somebody else...before they take someone's brother or father away...then that means something. Then...then maybe it wasn't all in vain."_

_And Peter had always felt that way. Maybe he should've told Gabriel...maybe it would've been the lifesaver that the man sometimes needed in his darkest of hours. But maybe just as misery loved company, so did drowning. Because Peter drowned everyday knowing that his brother was dead and maybe Gabriel should too for committing the crime._

_Claire remained silent, her shoulders slumping forward slightly as her eyes slipped shut. Peter leaned his head back against the couch, his heart still resounding loudly in his chest. __It was wrong to want Gabriel to drown with him and Peter had never consciously thought about it until now. He felt a profound sense of guilt wash over him, his stomach still twisting and clenching. But Peter was also tired of feeling isolated from everyone else...and in some respects both men's shared pain had been a foundation in which to build a relationship on._

_No wonder it had then cracked and fallen._

"_You've always seen the good in the world." Claire finally whispered, and Peter had to strain to hear her speak now. "You've always been the hero because you've always seen the world as something beautiful and worth saving."_

_Peter wrapped his arms back over his chest...his heart still hammering against his ribcage. "I'm sorry, Claire. I know this is tough on you..."_

"_I hated him for what he did to __you__ too." Claire added, a fiery insistence now creeping into her voice. "When Nathan died...I didn't even recognize you. You were so angry...so filled with rage and I hated him for that. I hated that he made you feel that way when you've always been so gentle."_

_Peter gave a small shrug of his shoulders, his eyes darting down towards the floorboards. He watched his toes with fake pointed interest. Then he finally sighed, "I know, Claire. But I've let those feelings go..."_

_The words quickly died on his lips. He didn't know how convincing he sounded to either Claire or himself. Yes, he had let the hatred go. He had let the burning rage go. He no longer wished to hurt Gabriel. But he also knew he'd never forgive Gabriel for what he had done._

_He had taken Nathan away from Peter. Nathan...no matter how many times Peter ever talked of his brother he was certain that Gabriel would never understand how close they were or how much Peter loved him. How every day was painful because it brought about an aching longing for Peter to see his brother again...to talk to Nathan one more time. God, how many times had Peter wanted to just pick up the phone and call his brother...it was incomprehensible to think that he'd never hear Nathan's voice again. How could Gabriel ever understand that...and if Peter forgave him...would it then be okay? Would it be okay that he could never hug Nathan? Would it be okay that Nathan would never see Peter get married or be the best man at Peter's wedding or the godfather of his children?_

_No, that would never be okay._

"_Maybe you're right." Claire murmured, her shoulder lightly touching Peter's. It was the closest they had gotten since Peter had first told Claire the news of Gabriel, and it brought him some comfort to know that their relationship hadn't been damaged because of it. "Maybe you're right, and he does deserve another chance."_

_Peter glanced over at her hopefully but his spirits fell when she gave a slight shake of her head. Her lips pursed together as her emerald eyes spilt over with sorrow and loss. "But I can't be the one to give it to him. He killed Nathan."_

_Peter swallowed heavily, the darkness threatening to well up within his being once more. He blinked quickly, clearing his throat roughly as he did so. "I know." He murmured, his voice strained and husky. "God, Claire, I know."_

In the end they had both quietly decided to go to bed. Tomorrow would not be any easier for either of them.

Peter pressed his fist against his lips, his anxiety circulating and tightening his insides. _The dream still dug at him like a knife pressing against his heart. _He was surprised that Gabriel hadn't called him yet..._it had been five days after all and Gabriel certainly hadn't seemed as if he were ready to give up on the relationship. Certainly, Gabriel had wanted to make things right._ Maybe Gabriel was scared of Peter's reaction...maybe he thought that he hadn't granted Peter enough time to calm down yet. In any case, the dream was compelling Peter to action..._as it always did_. Peter sighed, heavily, knowing he was unable to sleep in his current condition. _Maybe it was time to throw out a lifesaver...maybe it was time to give Gabriel a breath of air. Once Peter realized what the cause of someone's pain was, it always felt impossible not to begin mending it, not to begin the healing process. He couldn't watch someone suffocate who needed CPR...he couldn't watch someone bleed who needed bandages._

Peter grabbed the phone before he could talk himself out of it. Without hesitation, he pushed in Gabriel's number. Peter felt his stomach clench painfully as he leaned back against his cracked countertop. _Gabriel would answer. It was late, but he always kept the phone by his bedside. He would know it was Peter...finally reaching out to him._

"C'mon, man, answer the phone." Peter hissed, every passing ring increasing the uncertainty that was settling in his gut. "Damn it, Gabriel, c'mon."

_But Gabriel wasn't answering._

"C'mon..." Peter murmured, his hand clenching at his side. _The dream was resurfacing once more...but it was impossible to dream the future...he didn't __have__ that power...he didn't..._

The phone continued to ring nonstop..._Gabriel had never bothered to put in an answering machine_. Peter finally clicked it off, his hand slamming down on the countertop with a sudden burst of anxiety. _Gabriel might've been sleeping, but he would've heard the phone. He would've known it was Peter...he would've answered._

"Ah..." Peter hissed, passing his hand over his eyes. Something was urging him to continue..._he needed to call his mother now._ Peter gave an uncomfortable roll of his shoulder, pressing in his mother's number with equal urgency. His mother might _not _answer at this hour, that was true. But all the same, he felt he needed to try.

"Please, Ma, c'mon." Peter whispered, hanging his head down towards his chest. _He could feel his heart nearly leaping out of it and up into his throat now._

But Angela's phone also continued to ring, its tone now sounding mocking. After awhile, her answering machine clicked on with his mother's concise tone stating, "_You have reached the residence of Angela Petrelli. Please leave a message after the tone_."

"Ma, this is Peter..." Peter said quickly, beginning to pace the floor of his kitchen. "Look, when you get this please call me back. I just...I need to know that everything's okay. Alright? So please, call me when..."

But before he could finish his message, the phone snapped off..._he could hear the loud click resounding on the other side of the line_. Peter jerked his head back in surprise..._someone had hung up on him. Oh, god._

Peter swallowed, a sudden rush of emotions overpowering him as he took several steps backwards, staring at the phone he held in his hands as if it were a bomb. _Oh, god. Something was very wrong. The dream...he didn't know how...but it was real. He was sure it was real...just as he had once been certain he could fly._

_What was Gabriel doing? Why would he go to Angela...after everything Peter had said...after every warning given that it would only turn out wrong. Peter loved both of them...why did they want to hurt each other...want to hurt him?_

"Gabriel, what are you doing?" Peter shouted, punching his fist down into the counter. He slumped forward, slamming the phone down in an equally unrestrained action. _Adrenaline was pumping through his veins now. Every fiber in his body was urging him towards action...even as every part of his being raged at both of them in anger and betrayal._

"Peter...is everything okay?"

Peter turned around in surprise, his eyes widening as he realized that his outburst had awaken Claire. She stood before him now, barefoot and clinging to the light robe that shrouded her small form. She appeared to still be quite tired, but her eyes were clouded with concern.

"I'm fine." Peter insisted roughly, pressing a hand to his chest. "Go back to bed."

Claire gave a shake of her head as she continued to approach him. "You were shouting. What's wrong?" She narrowed her eyes, observantly. "Who were you talking to on the phone?"

"It's nothing." Peter replied, shortly, his voice coming out low and raspy. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Peter." Claire titled her head to the side as she worried her bottom lip. Her robe slipped out of her grasp as she placed her hands on her hips, she was wearing a tank top and shorts to counter the unbearably muggy night. "Don't say that. Look at you...you're hands are shaking."

Peter rushed his hands through his hair in an attempt to steady them once more. "I had a dream." He finally relented. "It felt..._real_. Like when I used to dream about the future."

"Do you even have that power?" Claire asked, curiously.

Peter shook his head, quickly. "No. No, I don't. But...but I know what it feels like to have those kinds of dreams. It _feels _different."

Claire nodded, concern still burning in her bright gaze. "What happened in the dream?"

"It was about Gabriel." Peter admitted, growing uncomfortable when he saw the way that Claire's eyes had darkened even further at his words. Nevertheless, he pushed on, "He was gonna go see my mom. I think he wants to make things right with her. But...but you know her. She's never gonna forgive him. She wants to kill him, Claire, and I think somethin' really bad is gonna happen tonight."

"Are you sure?" Claire demanded, bringing her hand back up to clasp onto her robe.

Peter nodded, vehemently. "I gotta stop it. Look, I know...it might be nothing but a nightmare. But I've got to be sure. I can't let anything happen..."

_He couldn't let anything bad happen to either of them._

"Well, I'm coming with you." Claire decided, succinctly. "Come on, let's go."

"No." Peter replied, sharply. "No, Claire. I don't know what to expect."

"Peter, I'm not going to sit here while you go through this alone." Claire walked over to him hurriedly, a look of brilliant determination shining upon her features. "No, I'm coming with you. You might need backup, and I can help you."

Peter watched her intently and he could see himself in the defiance and eagerness that graced her now._ How had he never noticed that she looked like him too?_

"Alright." Peter relented, the amount of time that had already elapsed increasing his sense of urgency. "C'mon, we gotta go."

Peter and Claire hurried over to the door of his apartment, both still clad in their nightwear but neither caring. _Terrible thoughts were now swirling in Peter's mind. What if Gabriel accidently hurt his mother...what if his mother actually killed Gabriel...god, all of these things were too horrible to imagine. Peter's heart was already fragile and torn, he couldn't take another shearing loss or it just might snap in two._

"Where are we going?" Claire pressed, as they began running down the stairs of the building. Both were barefoot, but this didn't seem to deter them either.

"We're going to my mom's...that's where the dream took place." Peter explained, as they continued to hurry down the nighttime streets. The city was still very much alive, as car lights dotted the streets for miles without stop. Neon billboards showered them both in a glow of blue, red, and green hues as they made their way to the street corner.

Peter immediately began trying to hail a cab, but quickly became discouraged as several of them continued to pass them by. _God, if only he could DO something himself! He felt so helpless...and he hated feeling that way. He hated being unable to save others because of his own human limitations. _Peter let out a frustrated grunt. "Why aren't any of the cabs stopping for us?"

"Because we look insane." Claire pointed out, grabbing onto his raised arm in an attempt to calm him down. "We're barefoot and in our night clothes. Look, we're not that far from your apartment. We can change...or we can just take the subway..."

"We're wasting _time_..." Peter growled, kicking at a littered can on the ground as his lungs contracted angrily in his chest. "If only I could _run _or _fly_..."

"Well, what can you do?" Claire demanded, gripping onto either side of his arms once more. "What power do you have right now?"

Peter sucked in a deep breath. _He had to calm down and think. He was allowing his emotions to overpower him, and he had to keep his anxieties and fears in check if he was going to be of use to anyone tonight_. "I can bend light shards to appear invisible but..." Peter shook his head, miserably. _He needed to fly, ironic as that was. _"That's not gonna help us. Look, the subway's closer than my apartment so let's just go."

"Okay." Claire nodded, grasping onto Peter's arm as they continued to hurry down the street. The subway entrance was just around the corner and Angela's apartment wasn't a very far ride from that point.

The subway was dark and desolate, the only sounds coming from the rumbling of the underground trains as they roared past their platforms. They would then continue rattling off into the tunnels, their eerie whistles piercing the tension that was clouding Peter's mind.

_If anything happened to Gabriel...if anything happened to his mother...he was so angry at both of them...so scared for both of them...so confused if anything was really wrong at all. If only Peter had called Gabriel sooner...but no, Gabriel should've had enough self-control to contain his selfish urges...enough respect for Peter to stay away from Angela. God, as soon as he was certain Gabriel was alright Peter was going to be so mad at him._

"Nice legs, sweetheart!" A man in a dark hoodie shouted towards Claire, leaving his hidden sanctuary in the shadows of the subway wall.

Peter shot the man a venomous glare, but he never stopped moving. Both he and Claire continued rushing towards their platform.

"Don't be scared." Peter mentioned to Claire, as they stopped to wait for their arriving train. "He's just a punk."

"Please, I've dealt with _so _much worse." Claire replied, forcing out a strained laugh.

But the man in the hoodie didn't seem to be deterred at all. He continued to stumble towards them, the smell of alcohol reeking off of his entire form.

Claire slipped her arm into Peter's and he squeezed it closer to his side. _Peter wasn't intimidated by this man, but they really didn't need the trouble right now._

"C'mon, beautiful...I don't bite...c'mon don't ignore me..." He slurred, and Peter saw that the man's hands were now reaching out towards Claire.

Peter spun both Claire and himself around, positioned so that he was standing in front of his niece. "Hey, man, just back off, okay?" Peter pressed, moving one arm so that it was shielding Claire and using his other to gesture nonthreatening towards the other man. "We aren't botherin' you so just take it easy."

"Yeah, and who the hell are you?" The man demanded, reaching out to grab onto Peter by the shoulders.

_A shot of anger ripped through Peter. He didn't have any time to waste! He was tired...he was so tired...and between his mother, Gabriel, and now this drunken fool Peter was sick of dealing with other people's selfishness._

Claire let out a surprised shriek as Peter took two fistfuls of the man's dark hoodie into his hands and then proceeded to roughly slam the man up against the grimy subway wall. Peter stuck a finger in the man's face; his bright hazel eyes now blazing with dark intensity.

"I said to back off!" Peter hissed, adrenaline making his blood pound loudly against his eardrums. He gave the man another rough shove in warning. "Okay?"

"Y-yeah...s-sure." The man gasped out, his eyes now wide with fear. Peter allowed his grasp to ease as the man proceeded to stumble drunkenly to the ground. He appeared to be unmoving, but Peter knew that he hadn't roughed up the man seriously enough to hurt him.

Nevertheless, Peter pressed two fingers against the pulse in the man's wrist, a rough sigh grating past his lips..._god, if Gabriel was here he'd say something about Peter and his inability to stop being the perpetual caretaker...even to those who didn't deserve it._

"He's just passed out." Peter shrugged darkly, turning back to face Claire. He gave another sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead once more. "He'll be fine."

Claire looked up at Peter in complete disbelief. A pained chuckle finally escaped her, her hands rising up to cling onto her robe and pull it tightly around her small frame.

"What?" Peter demanded, his voice straining to be heard over the loud roar of the approaching subway train. It was beginning to be heard rounding the bend as its glaring light blazed the corner.

"Nothing." Claire shook her head, her words almost getting swallowed up in the ghostly wail of the train's whistle. "It's just surreal, you know?"

The train screeched to a halt, the doors swinging wide open to reveal that the compartment was populated with a little over ten passengers that were scattered across different seating areas.

"Surreal?" Peter echoed, still feeling ill at ease as they made their way towards the seats that were as far away as possible from anyone else. _They should've changed their clothes before they left...at the very least, Claire should've. Peter wasn't thinking straight...he was acting sloppy and careless. That was his fault...if only he could fly...if only he knew if his dreams were real...if only he could..._

"Yeah, I mean...after all these super powered villains that we've defeated it was kinda weird to watch you take out some drunken idiot with your bare hands." Claire replied, sitting down next to Peter as the train began to groan alive once more, clanging against its tracks. "And that we would still even be bothered by something so..._average_."

"Yeah, guess that is weird." Peter murmured, gruffly. He leaned the back of his head up against the cool glass behind him..._why had Gabriel done this? They could've made things right together...Peter would've went to see him right after Nathan's birthday memorial. Peter hadn't abandoned Gabriel...but now...now what was going to happen? God, it made Peter sick inside...he desperately prayed that this had been nothing...just a nightmare concerning his fears...just the worry that what he had with Gabriel would be discovered by his family and then it could never possibly last._

"Hey," Claire pressed, knocking her shoulder up against Peter's. He knew she was trying to take his mind off of things..._she was trying to calm his racing thoughts and soothe his storm of passionate emotions. _"You're my hero _again_."

Peter scoffed. _Her hero. She always called him her hero. That's what Gabriel always called him now too. But it didn't make sense...if Peter was such a hero than why could he never save Gabriel? If Peter was the hero they all claimed he was then why did everything he save always return to an eventual state of peril?_

"God, Claire, I hope I'm wrong about this." Peter groaned, reaching a hand up to press wearily against his face. _He was so tired...but the fear was keeping him alert...the adrenaline was keeping him ready to face whatever the future had meant._

"Yeah." Claire whispered, and the strained amusement had all but fled her voice. _She was scared too...she didn't want to see Sylar again. And for her, that's who she would be facing tonight, Peter realized with a jolt of dread. _"Yeah, I hope so too."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

_His mother had looked up at him with so much betrayal shining in those eyes, the scissors piercing her heart as her wound bled crimson through her blouse. His mother had lied motionless on the gravel, a deep knife wound having left a large gash across her forehead, dripping, dripping, dripping its scarlet on the rough dirt below. The woman who was once his mother...Angela...came at him with a burning desire to have him the victim this time. It was his blood that was spraying across the white walls and bloodying his shirt...and a part of him even wished for her to feel vindicated in her revenge...while the other part only wanted to restrain her...to bring an end to the continual bloodshed that had stained his dark life._

The knife pressed roughly into Gabriel's hands as his eyes caught his own reflection shining off of the deadly instrument. Angela struggled with him, trying to pull it back out of his grasp. Her face was flushed red and he could see that his was too; his nostrils spurting hot rage as his jaw clenched and trembled under the physical exertion.

Gabriel had taken the hilt of the knife, his large hands enclosing over Angela's smaller ones. He forced her towards the wall, the two of them stumbling backwards as Angela tried to the rip her weapon away from his grip.

"You son of a bitch!" Angela continued to rage, her chest heaving with weariness. Gabriel kept his hands tightly pressed over hers, the knife still pointing dangerously in his direction. Angela's face was burning a bright red as tears stained her hazel eyes. "You son of a bitch, you killed my baby! My baby's _gone _because of you!"

She raged and cried out, and for the first time in all the years that Gabriel had come to know Angela, she was allowing her carefully constructed façade to shatter into pieces. Her mask of earlier no longer seemed to matter now as the tears trickled down her flushed face.

"Calm _down_!" Gabriel hissed, desperately. He tried to force her closer to the wall, hoping to trap her up against something, hoping to eventually use his height and length to his advantage in keeping her contained. "Calm down..."

_His heart was pounding wildly in his chest with raw emotion. God, how many times had he said those words before to his own mother? Anytime that she would fly into her hysterics, anytime she would scream and cry, anytime she would feel like some nameless, faceless stranger was out to get her...Gabriel would beg her to calm down...plead with her and grab onto her arms to keep her from hurting herself. He would spend hours trying to soothe her, to reassure and comfort her. Eventually, she would fall asleep on their plastic-covered, ratty old chair. And Gabriel would calmly walk into his room and close the door behind him. Then he would sink into his bed, head buried in his trembling hands, as his whole body shook with rage. He hated her...he __hated__ her...he hated that she always managed to drag him down into her dark world of insanity. He would clench his jaw until his head ached and his vision blurred. These feelings were resurfacing again with Angela...his desperate pleas to soothe her raging spirit seeming to once more fall on deaf ears...and this served to have his own anger and hatred bubble forth._

"Let go of me!" Angela raged, thrashing her body against Gabriel's grasp once more. He knew that he should've released her..._it would've been an act of good will, after all_...but he had never been good at letting things go. He hated allowing anything to ever slip through his fingers..._and so he only held onto her tighter._

"You killed _Nathan_...you killed my BABY..." Angela roared, and she was quite lost now as she tried to shove the knife towards his head once more, even as Gabriel struggled to keep her at bay. _And Gabriel had never seen her so raw and so undone before. It made him feel sick inside...that he had drawn this out of her when she had always been so contained, so stoic and controlled. _"Nathan..._my Nathan_..."

"Angela..." Gabriel breathed out, his heated breath spurting through his flared nostrils. He pushed the hilt of the knife down and moved forward to try and trap it flat, in-between their chests. "Stop it..._stop it..._"

_He saw a sudden grainy image of a woman with hair like the dark side of the moon. She was yelling at a tall and frightening man. She was shoving him and raging at him, her hands slapping against his chest like a torrent of wind in a wild rainstorm. Gabriel remembered feeling very small and very scared...he feared for the woman. He feared what the tall and frightening man would do to her in response for her actions. Perhaps this was a shady memory of his biological mother and father. Or perhaps he was simply seeing himself and Angela in this very moment. After all, memories never seemed real to him anymore..._

Gabriel used his strength to overpower Angela and slam her roughly into the opposite wall. _CRASH! _A picture had fallen from its perch on the wall and landed at their feet; its glass cover shattering across the wooden floorboards. _It was a very artistic painting...using many abstract images and colors while portraying a vibrant woman enrobed in a chili pepper-red salsa dress. She was gazing over her cinnamon-brown shoulder with darkly mysterious and sensual chocolate eyes. Peter liked those kinds of paintings too...he was beginning to decorate the house with them again after having kept his walls barren for so long...Gabriel never noticed how much Peter was like his mother until now._

The momentum of throwing Angela against the wall had also caused some of the blood that had stained Gabriel's form to fall on her, the death crimson now flecking her nightgown and face. His wounds might have healed but his blood continued to drip over her...it seeped against her chest from his own as he pressed himself flesh against her in a show of dominance.

Gabriel gave Angela another shove up against the wall, trying to keep his ragged breaths under control as he seethed hot rage across her face. This night had spiraled so disastrously out of his control...and he was hardly focused on what he originally came here to accomplish anymore. Thoughts of making things right with Angela seemed so foreign now as he abhorred her once again for her constant meddling.

Both continued to hold their stance, trying to suck in deep breaths, trying to calm their respective pounding hearts, trying to match the hard glare that the other was giving.

Words had left both of them as Angela stared up into his cutting, dark gaze with her own sharp eyes. _God, she looked so much like Peter...and Gabriel didn't know how he felt about that anymore. And this look she gave him now...it was the look Peter used to give him. The look Peter used to give when Gabriel had disgusted him, horrified him...filled him with turbulent rage._

Angela released another muffled cry, jerking her hands away from his own with enough force that she slashed the knife across his palms. Gabriel stumbled back in surprise, angling his form so that he now backed her up into the buffet. Her small frame rocked against it, more loud crashes ripping through the once silent apartment as pictures of her two boys fell to the floor; the glass shards sparkling in the moonlight.

"Stop it!" Gabriel ordered, giving her shoulders a rough shake. Gabriel's eyes burned down into her own. She seemed so small just then...so small and helpless in his large grasp. _His trembling arms restraining her...to keep her from hurting herself...or anyone else...he calmed her down because he loved her...__it was because he hated her and he just wanted peace and quiet in a home that was filled with sickening turmoil._

"Why did you kill him!?" Angela raged, bright eyes burning into his own. She clenched her teeth together as she continued to glare at him. Tears stung her vision as she gave a shuddering gasp of air. "Why did you kill him? Was it so that you could be _special_? Is that why you want Peter now? Because you think Peter will make you feel special?" She struggled against his grasp, her heavy words grating against her throat as she continued to shout. "No one will ever love you, you sick bastard..."

Gabriel allowed his hands to slip down her shoulders and onto each of her arms. His grip increased on them; both her skin and his knuckles burning white at his touch. He knew she would bruise later but he didn't care_...she was making him angry. She was insisting that no one would ever love him even though he already knew that was a lie. Peter loved him, damn it...Peter loved him even though she never would. She would never love him...not the same way that she loved Peter...and even though Gabriel loved Peter too, he couldn't help but feel a raw and hot churning in his stomach at the thought that everyone always loved Peter...everyone was always on Peter's side...sweet Peter...loveable Peter...and who was he but the man who allowed everyone else to place their hopes and dreams on his back until it all but broke under the demanding strain and pressure..._

"Let me go!" Angela seethed once more, straining against his trembling hold.

"Why did you always love Peter more than me?!" Gabriel roared, slamming her wrists again to her sides. _To hurt her like she hurt him. To leave black and blue marks like she had left permanently etched all over his body_. _He had become a sea of molten lava that was threatening to erupt. _"WHY?!"

And as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt all the air not only get sucked from his heaving lungs but also from the room itself. He knew the look that Angela was giving him now. _He had seen that exact same look far too many times from Peter, after all._

_Silence. Stillness._

_Oh, god..._

Angela's face paled as she steeled herself. She had stopped fighting with him, her whole body now giving small tremors as she lay still beneath his grasp.

"That was Nathan's memory, wasn't it?" Angela whispered, her voice wavering slightly even as she tried to regain her emotionless façade for dear life.

Gabriel blinked in sudden confusion..._no, no that had been his memory, hadn't it? Those emotions had so clearly been his own he was sure of it_..._he tried to ignore how his heart was beating erratically within his tightening chest as he struggled for words. _"I...I don't know..."

"You still have his memories." She stated, with an icy cold conviction.

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the quivering that had found its way into his once steady hands. "I..." He stumbled backwards, releasing her as he did so. He glanced wildly at the floor, searching for something to ground him as he quickly felt himself unravel. _Everything about this night was wrong, wrong, wrong. His mind was betraying him once more...memories that weren't his own...a dark perversion that always threatened to swallow him up...emotions and compulsions that riddled him with anxiety. _His face paled as he finally summoned the strength to find her face once more.

Angela held the knife limply at her side, her other hand coming up to softly touch her chest, as if trying to hold onto her heart as it pounded within her. _She looked so intensely soft and delicate at the moment, her raven hair catching in the moonlight. Just like a small doll...a small doll that one couldn't hold too tightly lest it break_. Her eyes were still glassy from her tears but now they refused to fall. She steeled herself as she met his gaze, her lips pursed together bravely.

"I...I never _think _that I'm him any...anymore." Gabriel stuttered, taking several more steps back. They began to circle each other now, the tension still hanging thick in the air as they copied the other's movements. "But...sometimes..."

"I don't know what of Nathan's you still have in that sick mind of yours." Angela interrupted in a cold, steely voice. "But I want you to stay out of them, do you understand me? Stay _out_ of my son's memories!"

"And whose fault is it that I have them?" Gabriel seethed, as he circled her coldly. "You're the one who forced them into my head..." He snapped, touching his fingers to his temple darkly. "Who were you to play God?"

"And who are you to judge me?" Angela hissed, lightening striking in her darkened gaze. _Her tone was different now...slower and more even. _"You've never lost a child."

"No...I haven't." Gabriel admitted crisply, watching her closely..._watching her trembling hand that still held that shining knife with equal intensity. _They continued to circle around each other, neither being certain at the moment who was the predator and who was the prey.

"Then you'll never know the pain that I've felt." Angela murmured, her fingers clenching and unclenching warningly around the knife's hilt. "You'll never know what it was like for me the moment I saw him in that chair...cold and lifeless. The child I had given birth too...the boy I had raised...my handsome young man." Angela let out a rough sigh as she struggled to maintain her composure. _Her eyes refusing to betray the overwhelming sorrow and pain that Gabriel had seen tear Peter apart completely. _"I knew he had been..." Angela glanced away for a moment, her hand tightening around her weapon. "_Alone _when he died. When he was in pain. And in that moment there wasn't anything I wouldn't have done to fix the permanency of that situation. So, yes, I did something that I later came to regret." Angela gave a cold, mirthless smile. "But don't you dare be the one to judge me for it."

Gabriel remained silent; his dark eyes continuing to follow her deft movements. Her words had reached down into the depths of his soul..._he knew her pain. He knew that he would never have the right words to fully express to her how much he hurt over Nathan's death as well. But he knew her pain and it haunted him too. Murdering Nathan had killed a part of Gabriel too, it seemed. Murdering Nathan had killed something that could have been beautiful and perfect between himself and Peter. Her pain was shared, whether she would ever understand that or not._

Angela seemed to take his silence as continued condemnation, however. She bristled, a slow fire seeming to stoke in her as she gave him a hard glare. Taking a heavy swallow she pressed on, "I loved him. I loved Nathan very much." She lifted her chin slightly, as if daring anyone to contradict that statement. "I know that I've never made my love for Peter a secret. But Peter's easy to love...sweet, sincere. And Nathan..." Angela allowed her eyes to slip shut in order to hide some of the rawness of her feelings from Gabriel. "He was like the rest of us. Complicated and filled with conflicted emotions. Not always lovable...and not always able to give love unconditionally. But..." Angela pursed her lips closely together as she drew in a shaky breath. "I loved him _very_ much. And not despite all of that, but because of it."

Gabriel hesitated, uncomfortably. _Nathan had always known. In his last moments he had tenderly spoke of his own love for his mother to Peter. But Nathan and Angela had never gotten to have that final, parting goodbye, Gabriel realized suddenly. It had all ended rather abruptly for them...no time to say all the words both had always meant to say. There had been real love between them...both knowing the other had a role to uphold...both knowing Peter had transcended that role and that's why he had garnered both their love so easily. But for that reason, Nathan and Angela had loved each other all the more. They were both so painfully fallen...so dangerously human. And for that reason, the deep love that had run between them had remained unspoken until it was too late._

Gabriel gave a low sigh as he tried to soften his gaze, his voice falling to that of a hushed whisper. "He...he knew that." He offered comfortingly, being careful not to make the mistake of actually sayingNathan's name again. "He loved you too."

But his words had the opposite effect on Angela. Instead of looking relieved, her anger only seemed to intensify tenfold. Her eyes spat raging fire as she snarled, "Don't tell me what he knew, you son of a bitch. If you hadn't killed him, _he _could've told me that...I could've had time to make things _right_..."

"Angela..." Gabriel pleaded, reaching a hand out to place softly on her arm..._but she was too far away to reach. She was always too far away. _"Angela, I'm..." His words trembled into nothing as they passed his lips..._she didn't want to hear him say "I'm sorry". Peter hadn't wanted to hear it either, punching Gabriel in the face whenever he had dared speak the insulting words...words shouted out of ravaged hurt...hazel eyes blazing with pain and loss._

"You have his eyes." Gabriel murmured softly, the words taking both he and Angela by surprise. _He said it so lovingly, so tenderly. _"Peter's eyes." He corrected quickly, intent to acknowledge that he was now talking about the younger Petrelli.

"His eyes are so beautiful..." Gabriel continued, his voice barely above a strained groan. "It's like a thousand iridescent colors all got thrown onto one paint canvas...just like in that picture...with the woman...the salsa dancer. Peter would love that picture..."

_Something softened in Angela's eyes...she was thinking of Peter now, Gabriel knew. Her sweet boy...her innocent baby forever...the one she would protect against all the powers of hell._

"He got it for me." Angela murmured with a hint of bitterness, her eyes glancing down at the scattered glass shards. Her voice was disturbingly monotone, as if everything that had happened tonight had somehow forced her into a state of disassociation. "For Mother's Day. It reminded him of Acapulco."

_They had all gone as a family. Arthur and Nathan had gone fishing off the coast for sword fish. But Peter had chosen to walk along the sandy beaches with his mother instead...his large hand cradling her own comfortingly...he would pick up a seashell and give it to her; that endearing lopsided grin only making him look all the handsomer._

Gabriel gave a small grin...he couldn't possibly have known the last part of that memory. But somehow he could see it all with such perfect clarity in his mind's eye..._because he knew his sweet Peter so well, that's why._

"He never told me that story." Gabriel breathed sadly, glancing down once more at the woman in the picture. _She held a hundred secrets in her eyes. One could tell from the slight grin that painted those full, red lips. It was the same slight grin that Peter always held when he was being sensual and so beautifully inviting. _"I guess I don't know a lot of stories..." Gabriel gave a sad chuckle..._the truth of the situation overwhelming his previous wishes._ "I probably don't know him very well at all, do I?"

Angela allowed the knife to relax by her side..._that soft, delicateness returning to her form. Gabriel wanted to reach out and touch her so very badly...for her to hold him, to tell him that it was all okay. But he knew she would always be too far away..._

"Gabriel..." She finally breathed out, her eyes flitting over his face with growing curiosity. "What was the real reason you came here tonight? It wasn't to kill me."

Gabriel gave a small shake of his head, raising a hand to rub irritatingly at his left eye. He fought at the tears that threatened to prick at his dark, brown eyes..._if Angela would remain in control of her emotions than so would he. They were both well-versed in wearing masks, and he would not be the one to disappoint_.

"No." Gabriel whispered, the words getting caught up in his throat as it continued to tighten. "No, not to kill you."

Silence befell both of them. _He needed to tell her the truth. His entire life thus far had been marred with lies and deceit. He owed her one bit of honesty. It was a brave new world, after all, and he needed to leave the masks and the deceptions behind him._

"I wish you were my mother." Gabriel finally breathed out, and even to himself he knew that he sounded quite insane..._but he didn't care. It was the truth...and after all he had done to her, he supposed that she deserved that at the very least. _"We both love Peter. We both want what's best for him...we want him to be happy." He gave a small shrug of his shoulders, his eyebrows furrowing lower in reflection. "I thought...I thought someday we could be a family again. You could see me as another son...after you saw how good I am to Peter. You could be like...like a mother to me."

Angela turned her head to the side and Gabriel knew she was battling with the wave of disgust that his words had brought her. He felt as if she had found the knife once more and succeeded in shoving it into his heart. _Gabriel was nothing like Peter...and he wasn't like Nathan either. He was impossible to love_.

"I'm sorry." He offered again, feeling small and insignificant once more."I...I just thought you should know."

"You're insane." Angela whispered, her eyes still trained to the far side of the wall..._she seemed quite incapable of looking in Gabriel's direction at the moment_. "But we reaped what we sewed, didn't we? The Company...if we had just killed you when we had the chance...instead of experimenting on you, instead of thinking you were some kind of tool we could use to our advantage. If I would've just left you adrift in the world...instead of bringing you into my _family_...instead of introducing you to my boys...you never would've targeted them." Angela gazed up towards the ceiling, as if beseeching Gabriel the angel now rather than Gabriel the man in her moment of pain. "This..._this _right now...you here...I could've prevented all of it. If I had just stopped playing God and supported my boys instead...if I had just shown my sons how much I loved them and cared for them...it all would've turned out so different, wouldn't it have?"

"Angela...please believe me when I tell you..." Gabriel hissed, his vision blurry as he continued to rub at his eye. He finally lowered his hands to his sides..._hoping somewhere, somehow she could see something soft in him too. _"I didn't mean for this to happen."

"We never do." Angela gave a humorless, tight-lipped smile. "These powers...they corrupt absolutely. And it doesn't matter what you have...a demented hunger...or the ability to see your loved ones die coupled with an inability to prevent it...it's all the same. A curse."

_A curse. That's the conclusion he had once come to as well, begging Matt Parkman to purge him of the demons that had taken over his soul. But then he had spoken to Peter about the powers...and where everyone else saw evil, Peter only saw goodness...where everyone else saw destruction, Peter only saw beauty and hope._

"Peter says that these powers are a gift." Gabriel countered, taking several steps towards her. He noted curiously how she hadn't backed away from him this time. It emboldened him to continue, "Peter says that if we use these powers for good then..."

"Please...we both know that Peter isn't like everyone else." Angela snapped, lifting her knife again in warning. Gabriel stopped his sudden movements, a space still left between their hated bodies. She closed this gap, a challenge glinting on her face now. "But tell me, _Sylar_..." She mocked, taking delight in using his old name. "How many of the rest of us have ever used these powers for anything good?"

Gabriel allowed his eyes to slip shut. He pressed a hand to his heart as his other reached out beseechingly towards her. "My name is Gabriel." He insisted, allowing his eyes to open again slowly. They darted towards the floor, almost unwilling to look her in the eyes at the moment. "And I _have _begun to use my powers for good. Peter and I...we...we fight crime together."

He lifted his gaze once more..._to see what emotion was reflecting on her face now. But did he really expect that she would be proud of him for this? _He bit his lip fervently, his delusional hopes falling once more as he saw the scoff that painted her lips.

"You really believe that you can be normal?" Angela sneered, her hand coming up to brush some of her soft, ebony tendrils out of her face. "After everything you know yourself to be capable of? I know your power, Gabriel. It won't ever go away, no matter how much you might wish it to. You're like an addict and you've conditioned your hunger to respond to violence."

_He opened his mouth to contradict her...to vehemently deny her claims and to insist that she was wrong. But deep within his heart, he knew she was speaking the truth. When he had realized that Jennifer had held a power...he hadn't just wanted to absorb it. He had a sudden and demanding impulse to suck it out of her, to ferociously draw it out of her body and claim it as his own. He was still so hungry...and when he didn't have love to feed on he felt a dark ebb and flow hauntingly tug at his consciousness...crying out to him...to know more...to have more...and it was true that violence was the only way in which the savage beast had learned to be soothed throughout all of the years._

"Those demons that live inside of you...you'll never be completely rid of them." Angela explained, pointedly. "And I _don't_ want that for my son. I don't want him having to _live _with that...to think that your sickness is his responsibility to contain"

"But...but I _didn't_ hurt Jennifer." Gabriel insisted, roughly. _It didn't matter what he had felt...he had controlled himself. For the first time since this cursed hunger had roared awake in his veins, he had controlled himself. _"I was able to contain it...to stop myself without Peter there. Doesn't that prove _anything_?" And Gabriel took the last step that was needed to close their distance..._to press their bodies flesh together. She wouldn't remain out of his reach any longer. She would come to understand his words. _He eagerly pushed on, wondering if he had finally found the words he had always seemed to be searching for. "What you said about Na—about your other son. That he was complicated and not always easy to love...couldn't that..." Gabriel forced a small smile to quirk his lips. "Couldn't that be _me_? Maybe that's why our memories flow together so flawlessly...maybe I'm _like _him."

They watched each other closely for a moment, neither daring to move. The clock ticked loudly on the wall..._the rain continued to fall outside, the lightening illuminating the room briefly. _Their chests were still pressed together from Gabriel's previous bold action..._their hearts slamming against each other rapidly._

And then, without warning, Angela slapped Gabriel hard across the face; leaving a heated mark in her wake. _It was a strange visual, her hand trembling by her side and grasping a butcher knife and she had merely chosen to hit him for his transgression. She was more like Peter than Gabriel had ever known. _Angela stuck a shaky finger in his face, her voice spitting fire even as she fought to keep the small tremor out of it. "You are _nothing _like Nathan. He was a _good_ man. And just because you didn't _kill_ a little girl or because you beat up common criminals and then Peter compliments you like a naughty puppy he's trying to housetrain doesn't make _you _a good man too." Angela narrowed her eyes in contempt. She pressed her finger authoritatively into his heavily rising and falling chest. "Just because you have his memories doesn't mean you know anything about him. Nothing you have of him is _real_."

Gabriel squint his dark eyes at her, anger roiling through his chest in dark, churning waves as he bored into her gaze..._ dark hazel eyes, swimming with golden shards of green and amber waves. She had perverted everything he could've shared with Peter. She had taken their love and distorted it through her unholy actions. And her reasoning of before didn't touch him the same now...she was reminding him that she had without remorse raped Gabriel of his identity and his soul. She had taken his memories and polluted them to the point that he didn't know if he was seeing his own...or Nathan's...or even purely making things up altogether. She was right...none of it was real anymore. Memories, the most precious thing a person can hold because they are unique to that person and no one else, had all been turned into half-truths and muddled inconsistencies. And even as she swore she had done it for the sake of her son alone, Gabriel knew...he knew because somewhere deep down they understood that they were monsters, the both of them. And Angela had played God to the point of becoming the Devil._

He raised his hand and touched it lightly to the base of her throat, watching as she shut her eyes closed in response. He wrapped his fingers gently around her neck before sliding his large hand up and over her mouth. _Mmm...now she was silenced. Now she would listen and stop saying hurtful and nasty things. _He pressed his palm roughly over her lips, giving a small smirk as her eyes flashed open in rage. Still, she looked ill at ease now and remained still.

_Now all he saw was her eyes. Hateful, hurtful eyes. Yes, that was better than hearing her say things he no longer wished to hear. _

"Stop hurting me..." Gabriel groaned, even as he tried to pull back his strength. He moved his other hand to wrap around her other wrist, effectively pinning it and the knife to the wall. "It's not like I actually _want _him in my head. It makes Peter angry...it takes away all of the beautiful moments we could be having together." These words served to intensify his anger towards her..._the reason he had burst into her house in the first place once more finding the forefront of his mind. _He kept his hand clasped tightly over her mouth and pressed on, his words slipping past his lips with breathy sincerity, "I should have heard about Acapulco from Peter...or how his favorite dish is cannelloni...or how he loves cherry popsicles..."

Angela gave a soft, muffled moan from behind his hand. _His words were cutting her...the fact that he knew all these things about Peter driving her insane as she was forced to listen. He didn't care...he hadn't seen Peter in five days, for god's sake. And whose fault was that?_

"That's why we're having problems." Gabriel spat, the words flecking out of his mouth and against her cheek. "That's why I can never get close to him. Because you put these..._things_...in my head!" He slipped his hand away from her lips and rested it back onto her soft throat. "These things in my head that take parts of my soul away. Did you know that sometimes...I close my eyes and I can almost_...almost_ see my biological mother. And she's so beautiful. So small and delicate. So dark and Italian..." Gabriel gave a rough chuckle as he shook his head at the floor, before sobering up and glaring back into Angela's eyes. "And then guess who she always turns into?" He took his hand off of her throat and formed it into a trembling fist that slammed into the wall right beside her head. She gave a small start, a tiny squeak escaping her. "Every damn time, Angela. It's _you_."

Angela sobered up too, masking her fear as she hardened her face. A snarl curled at her lip as she murmured icily, "Well, if it bothers you so much, then why don't you just use Parkman's powers and block the memories yourself?"

Gabriel glared at her, his jaw clenching furiously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't tell me you haven't thought of that." Angela mocked, a tight smile gracing her lips as she delighted in his pain. "You know that you're just not man enough to do it because you _want _Nathan's memories, don't you? You want to feel as if you're a part of my family when you know that you never can be. You want to feel like Peter loves you when you know that he merely feels obligated to keep you on a leash."

"_Stop that_..." Gabriel whispered, darkly, his eyes hardening even as they glassed over.

"And you _want_ to think of me as your mother." She gave a silky grin, her eyes now glinting devilishly. "Don't you, Gabriel? Because you don't really want to know the truth about your own...do you?"

Gabriel's felt his eyes dart around the room as his breathing deepened. _Oh, god. It felt as if all the oxygen was being sucked out of his lungs. He was dominating __her__; holding her captive against the wall...his entire body keeping her hostage. And yet she always held the trump card...because she knew how to have his heart...his emotions...completely at her mercy._

"You don't want to know that she didn't have a power. That she was _nothing _remarkable. She was just a poor little girl who got involved with a terrible man." Angela leaned as close to Gabriel as she could, that cutting smile still painting those cursed lips. "Because she wanted to feel _special_."

Gabriel allowed his eyes to slip shut entirely. His heart beat was slamming against his ribcage as the thunder outside resounded in his ears. _He had been trying to remember his biological mother for almost a year now. And every time she had been special...she had a power. But more importantly than that, she had been a good person...a beautiful, loving woman. But now Angela would tell him the truth...shatter the last hope he had held in his heart._

"How do you know that?" Gabriel cried out, a single tear finding its way out of the corner of his eye. He slammed her roughly into the wall, feeling a pang of delight at how her lungs contracted in her chest from the hardness of the hit. "Tell me the truth!"

"It's in your file." Angela hissed, bitterly. "I told you, I knew about your real parents. Our Company agents caught wind of a dangerous man...leaving a trail of dead people that we had marked with abilities."

_Yes, his father. The terrible, evil man who had begotten him. He knew his father._

Angela continued, her voice dropping to that of a whisper. Gabriel strained forward to hear her every word. "We followed him for a while but eventually he disappeared off the face of the map. But we found your mother's body. We tested it; she didn't have the gene for an ability. We didn't know until years later that she was your mother...until we captured you after the Homecoming game and found that your DNA matched up with someone in our files."

Gabriel stared at her in disbelief..._this was all too much. Too much to take in, too much for him to understand. No...he had come here for Peter's sake alone and now she was telling him about his mother...it was all too much as his heart mercilessly thundered in his chest...his mother hadn't been cursed by these __gifts__. She had been just like everybody else. She had been ordinary. She had thirsted for more, so much that she had taken up with a monster and bore his monstrous offspring._

"You had _no right_ to do any of that!" Gabriel seethed, choking back on the phlegm that was lodging itself in his throat. He dipped his head towards his chest, trying to reign in the strained gasps that were wheezing from his lungs. He gazed back up at Angela with renewed fire. "And what did you do with her body afterwards? Did you burn it; did you throw it in some unmarked grave? And you think _I'm _the monster?"

When Angela didn't answer, Gabriel felt something inside of him snap like a twig that had been twisting and tapering in a blazing inferno. He grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look at him..._to really look at him this time. To look at him for all that he was, whether she wished to her not. She would see the pain __she__ had caused __him__ for once._

"At least I have remorse for all the pain that I've caused." Gabriel moaned, fighting back the glassiness that continued to sting at his vision. "Does _Peter _know about any of this? I've told him all of my sins, but does he know all of yours?"

"Don't pretend that you have any idea what my relationship is like with my son." Angela murmured, harshly.

"Peter's an angel, Angela." Gabriel murmured, grinding his teeth to keep the uncontrolled moans from escaping him. _His mother...his mother had been untouched by powers. But her husband...her son...they had murdered, they had killed. But who was she truly? Had she been a monster too? Had Gabriel always just been the spawn of demons, not a shred of goodness to be found flowing in his veins? And then there was Peter, spawned of demons too. How had he found the strength to fly up to heaven? _"Peter's an angel and all we ever do is hurt him."

Angela remained silent, a strange softness suddenly finding its way into her once dark and mocking features. Her shoulders slumped forward slightly, a heavy sigh escaping her. _Gabriel was surprised to find that he knew this face too...but it wasn't a face that Peter had shown. It was Gabriel's face...whenever he had realized that hurting someone hadn't been nearly as satisfying as it had seemed it would be in his mind's eye. Whenever he had been left feeling hollow and discontented by his own actions._

Gabriel clenched his teeth together as hot air spurted through his nose. He gave several hard blinks. He didn't want to ask..._but it might be his only chance to ever know the truth. _"What was her name?"

Angela looked up quickly, seeming to understand what he was asking immediately. He half expected her to withhold the information to torment him further and was a bit surprised when she offered, "Grace." Her eyes clouded over as if she was remembering something from long ago. From a time when she had been a young woman and things that seemed so grandly important then seemed to have amounted to nothing now. "Her name was Grace."

_Grace. Like the words the Angel Gabriel had spoken to Mary... "Hail, full of Grace." Gabriel decided that he liked that name. It was simple...but it was pretty. It was soft...and gentle just like he had always wanted to picture her. Still..._

Gabriel gave a rough nod, the tears still blurring his sight. He sucked in a ragged breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Was she...was she a good person? Or...or...no?"

_Maybe it was the fact that he couldn't rightly see very clearly anymore, but he could've sworn a hint of pity had found its way onto Angela's cold features as she watched him struggle to keep his composure before her now._

Angela took in a deep breath before admitting softly, "I don't know." She gave a small shake of her head. "I only ever saw her after she was dead. And since she didn't have an ability, we didn't bother to learn anything else about her."

"Well...she married my dad." Gabriel decided, darkly. He titled his head down towards his chest..._his mask was hard to uphold any longer. Angela would win tonight. He was too overcome with emotion and too lost in memories and regrets. He hardly cared if she did win their little game though. She had known him for a long time now, anyway. Angela had known him since he was a young man in his twenties and she already knew that his mask was just that._

"That doesn't always mean anything." Angela murmured, softly. It was almost kind of her to say..._he supposed she was saying that because she had married Arthur and still considered herself to not be an evil person. Gabriel didn't rightly know how much he agreed_. _But the way she said it spoke of something deeper...something more sincere towards the dead woman she had found; a fellow mother who lay murdered with her son stolen from her._

"You felt bad for her." Gabriel whispered, a sudden realization slowly seeping into him. _He felt a thousand pinpricks tingling against his skin and yet all he could feel was a resounding numbness in response_. "Her death actually bothered you."

"Well...she was just a victim in this terrible world of powers and corruption, wasn't she?" Angela allowed, softly. "She probably only wanted to raise her son. But then she got mixed up with all this awfulness...and she died like so many of the others that I've seen die."

Angela pressed her head back up against the wall, allowing her eyes to slip closed in uncomfortable recollections. When she spoke again, her voice was cold but filled with memories. "And her son grew up to kill. When your DNA matched hers...I felt so sick inside. Her head...was slashed open when we found her. And your victims...had their heads slashed open. All of them. Can you imagine if she knew?"

Gabriel slipped his hands off of her and stepped away slowly. _If her last statement was meant to make him feel sick too, she had succeeded in her goal. But she was mistaken if she thought he held any grand delusions of himself as some loveable being. He hadn't ever truly thought his mother would be proud of who he had been. He was glad she had never known the truth...the fact that his adopted mother had seen him as a monster still haunted his sleep almost every night. He didn't need Angela telling him things he already painfully played out in his head over and over again. _He felt cold as he brought his arms up to wrap tightly around his chest. He gave a small conceding nod to her, "I would disgust her, of course. Just like I disgusted the mother who raised me. Just like I disgust you." He took a step forward, his voice lowering as he whispered, "Did you _really _think that I don't know these things?" He tilted his head to the side and gave her a sad smile. "You don't know me very well."

Angela mirrored his movements, her own arms coming up to wrap around her small, shivering form. The knife remained lodged in her grasp. She remained silent, giving not the slightest of clues as to how his words had affected her.

Gabriel opened his mouth to continue, but at that moment the phone began ringing, slicing through the hushed silence. Angela and Gabriel both paused, their heads jerking towards the offending appliance in disbelief. It seemed so odd...such a familiar noise breaking through the tension that had laced their conversation.

"_You have reached the residence of Angela Petrelli. Please leave a message after the tone_." Angela's recorder sounded, simply.

Gabriel and Angela remained motionless even as a man's familiar husky voice started speaking on the machine. The man sounded sleepy but desperate, his words sincere as he asked for his mother to answer the phone...to allay the fears that were more well-founded than he ever actually could've known.

_It was Peter...and Angela and Gabriel both gave each other a side-long glance as they seemed to remember who it actually was they had been fighting over. Oh, god...hearing Peter's voice now was worse than getting stabbed a thousand times by the knife. Gabriel missed Peter so intensely and ferociously...he just wanted to __hold__ his beautiful Peter...just wanted to love Peter...but Peter never seemed farther away than at that very moment...his voice resounding so sorrowfully from Angela's answering machine. _

Angela gave Gabriel an uncertain look before she tentatively made her way towards the phone. But Gabriel had been released from his trance, Angela's movements forcing him into action. His hand shot out to grab onto her wrist, giving it a small warning squeeze.

"What are you gonna say to him?" Gabriel demanded, angrily. "Are you gonna tell him I'm holding you here hostage? That I've been trying to kill you?"

"He'll think all of those things if I don't answer the phone." Angela retorted heatedly, ripping her wrist out of his grasp. She pulled at her nightgown as she continued to head towards the phone. "Peter is impulsive. If he doesn't hear from me, he's going to think something is wrong and then he'll..."

Gabriel gave a small nod of understanding..._but deep down something uncertain was tugging relentlessly at him. Gabriel saw her telling him she was his mother. He saw her comforting him tonight as she told him to leave Peter alone forever. She could be...she could be lying to him once more right now. She could be manipulating him. He didn't want to play the fool for her any longer. He didn't want to allow her to destroy what he had created with Peter._

Gabriel felt his whole face harden as he clenched his jaw. _Peter.__ That was the whole reason he was here tonight! He was supposed to be fighting for his relationship with Peter! He was supposed to be defending what they had together...and he had allowed himself to be sidetracked by his want to know his mother and his wishes for Angela to finally accept him or at the very least understand him but no...NO. His biological mother was dead and they had never known each other. And Angela had made it quite clear he would forever be the Devil in her eyes. All Gabriel had left was Peter. The only person on Earth who loved him...__who was capable of loving him...forgiving him...__was his sweet Peter. And he could never forget that._

"You want him angry at me." Gabriel seethed, moving forward suddenly to block her path. He towered over her, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "_Listen_ to me...listen to me! I can't have Peter mad at me anymore. I _miss _him."

"Get out of my way." Angela ordered, pointing the knife up towards his body once more. "I want to talk to my son."

"Please, I miss him..." Gabriel hissed, watching as she tried to reach around him for the phone. He tried to grab her arm, but she sidestepped him. He felt his rage roar to life in his chest..._his love for Peter was never stronger. He needed Peter back in his life. _"I need him, Angela! Are you listening to me?"

"Let me talk to him..." Angela snapped, picking the phone up and lifting it to her ear. She gave a small start as the phone flew out of her hands and hit up against the wall; falling to the floor in several broken pieces.

"I need Peter." Gabriel raged, his eyes wide and hardened as his arm remained outstretched from its use of telekinesis. "I _need _him. And I'm sorry, but I can't have you lying to him. Not about me."

Angela wielded around on him in anger; her raven hair falling messily around her shoulders and into her pale face. "I wanted to talk to my _son_!" Angela seethed, raising the knife high above her head. "And if I told him that you broke into my house and terrorized me that wouldn't be a lie!" She clasped her hands to her heart, her eyes filling with tears that wouldn't fall once more. "You hurt him. I _know _you hurt him and I have to be sure that he's okay! What happened to him the night that you fought?"

_You hurt him. You hurt him. You hurt him. The words pounded into Gabriel's psyche as he shook his head angrily in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Yes, he had hurt Peter. But isn't that what a relationship was...hurting someone only because you cared so damn much..._

"What did you do to him?" Angela snapped, reaching out and grabbing onto Gabriel's wrist with such fury that for a moment he felt frozen. "Answer me, Gabriel!"

_He had remained unmoving for only a moment longer then time started up again, her words finally catching up with the rest of her actions._ _What had Gabriel done to Peter? What had __Gabriel __done to Peter? He had loved him! He had loved Peter and it didn't matter if he had hurt Peter too...it didn't matter if he had once tried to kill him...or destroy his soul...or rip his family apart...or say hurtful things to him...or throw him into a wall...Gabriel loved Peter whether he could say those three godforsaken words or not!_

"I've loved him!" Gabriel roared, the passion coursing through his veins and pulsing into his chest; bursting forth like a torrent. He grabbed Angela's wrists roughly, pulling her towards him with a sudden and unexpected force. She was yanked off of her feet for a moment, the knife clattering to the floor as it gave a few deft bounces before settling within the mess of shattered glass. "I've loved him since the moment I first met him! He's everything I've ever wanted..._everything_. His goodness, his innocence, his heroics...I _wanted it, I wanted it, _I wanted it more than any power I've ever consumed, and I _still_ want it!"

"Let me go!" Angela gasped, pushing him away from her with all of the strength she still possessed, clearly tired after the long and emotional night. The suddenness of her movement had succeeded, however, and Angela stumbled to her hands and knees, breathing heavily, as she made a desperate lunge for her weapon. Gabriel stumbled with her, adrenaline coursing roughly through his entire body, broken glass shards cutting into the palms of his hands. He could've used telekinesis to restrain her..._it would've been easy to have done so...it would've gotten the situation back under control at the very least_...but he wasn't thinking clearly anymore. He was allowing his emotions..._and his raw anger..._to dictate the night, and there was always a part of him that craved human contact and realness when in the heat of the moment..._and no power could ever grant that._

Gabriel grabbed her arm from behind..._trying to ignore the rough shriek that slipped past her lips, trying to push away the fear he was inspiring within her..._and took each wrist in his hands. He then forced them down on either side of her body, crawling over her in a certain display of dominance. She continued to struggle under his grip, but Gabriel knew she would tire out soon. The knife was still a good foot out of reach..._for both of them._

_He wasn't a bad man anymore and she was acting like he was going to hurt her. It made him angry. She was breathing hard, her teeth gritted tightly together, her eyes blazing into his own with dark hatred. She thrashed against his touch, but he kept her pinned to the floor, his hands whitening on their grip of her wrists, his knees pressing her own legs into the cool floor._

_He wasn't a bad man anymore. He wasn't a monster...he wasn't a villain. It didn't have to be like this...it made him so mad...why did she always do this to him...why didn't she just leave him be...why did she hate him so?_

"Why can't you see how much I've changed?" Gabriel snapped, his face red and strained from all of their struggling, his breathing coming out in ragged bursts. His hips dug into her own as he kept her trapped beneath his long and wiry form. He groaned loudly, something violent threatening to claw out of his chest. _It had all become too much now...Angela...hearing about his biological mother...hearing Peter's voice on the phone and knowing that now it was only a matter of time before the bad thing that was always lurking around the corner burst into his life once more. _"Why can't you see that I've changed, Angela? _Why_?"

"Because it doesn't _matter_ to me, Gabriel!" Angela cried out, her eyes clenching tightly as she pressed her lips together.._.almost as if this would somehow protect her from his actions_. She sounded very tired when she whispered, much softer this time, "Because it just doesn't _matter. _Don't you understand? I don't care if you've changed. I don't care if you think you're being a good person now. You killed him." Her voice choked at these words, her eyes gazing up sorrowfully at the ceiling. "He's dead...and _that..._that, Gabriel, is the _only_ thing that matters to me these days. I don't care if you're still out there in the world...I don't care if you're making things right for yourself or anyone else." She gave a small shrug of her shoulders before finally meeting his eyes; the tears now brightly prominent in them. "It won't matter to me."

"You...you can't forgive me...I see that now." Gabriel whispered, lowering his head so that his face could be closer to hers. "But I'm not asking for that anymore. _Hate _me." He lowered his eyes, his words coming out with raw emotion now. "But _please_...god, please, just let Peter love me. Please just allow me to have Peter's love. I know I shouldn't be allowed to have it, but for some reason he fell in love with me." Gabriel gave a rough laugh, shaking his head as he did so. "He fell in love with me and I need to have it. It's the only thing keeping me sane...the only thing keeping me satisfied...and I'm scared without it."

"Gabriel...please just tell me one thing..." Angela murmured, her voice strained and choked now. But she continued to make eye contact with him, something about the realness they had shared tonight making her unafraid to connect to him. "Is he hurt?"

Gabriel gave a strained and humorless chuckle. "Is he _hurt_?" He shook his head, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "Of course he's hurt. I _always_ hurt him. I can never...fix things between us. I've never even..." He gave a heavy swallow, finally meeting Angela's eyes with his own. He looked deep into them..._and he knew he could confess it to her. He knew she would understand even if she continued to hate him_. "I've never even said _I love you_ to him. I mean, why wouldn't I tell him that? The man who's given me everything and more...why couldn't I say three of the simplest words to him?"

Angela looked away, off at the far wall in response. He hadn't expected her to answer his question, but eventually she did, with very detached but certain words. "You already know the answer to that."

Gabriel narrowed his gaze at her, ready to lash out at her for her words. But before he could think of something biting to say in response, he allowed the sincerity of her words to reach him. He allowed them to sink in and once they did, he felt a cold chill seep into his bones. It was as if icy hands squeezed at his heart, drowning him in terrible knowledge.

"I...I don't want him to love me." Gabriel whispered, and he didn't know if he was relieved or agitated by the small amount of agreement that passed through Angela's face. He raised one of his trembling hands and touched it to her cheek. "That's it, isn't it..."

_After all this time he had told himself he had changed...some things still remained so achingly the same. He didn't deserve anyone's love...and if he hated everything about himself than why shouldn't everybody else?_

Gabriel laughed again, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling with dark self-mocking. "Isn't that crazy? That's why I keep sabotaging it every chance I get...it's why I keep doing things to make him hate me...to push him away every time we start to get close. I'm scared of him being in love with me. I _want _to die alone." Gabriel chuckled darkly to himself, hardly even noticing or caring about Angela's presence any longer. "I know that he can't love me...I mean, _no _one can...so I try and hurt him before he can hurt me. I try and ruin what we have before he can realize what a mistake it is. _Oh_..." His eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat in his chest. _Ah, he finally had put all pieces into place...and his broken clock was keeping perfect time again. _  
"Oh, that's why I fell in love with him in the first place. Because he was so _good_...he was the man that could never love me back."

Gabriel gave a small smile, his mind lost to his dark and revealing thoughts. But his grin disappeared almost as soon as it had spread across his lips; his eyes hardening with a stern seriousness as they bored back into Angela. "You have his eyes, you know. He has the most beautiful eyes in the world."

"Yes, he does." Angela agreed, quietly.

_Gabriel didn't know how long they lay there; his body resting heavily on top of hers. He had pressed the top of his forehead to hers in weariness at one moment; but he had spent most of the time simply watching her; both their breaths finally slowing and catching after all of the emotions and passions that had rushed through their forms over the course of the night._

It was Angela who finally broke the hallowed silence. A tragic smile had quirked her lips as she watched him closely with knowing eyes. "And now what, Gabriel?"

_Almost as if she expected him to raise his finger in spite...to cut her...cut her...and calm his racing, anxious mind. But he had changed. He needn't cut anymore to feel whole...and he was no longer anxious. On the contrary...everything finally made perfect, heartbreaking sense. Angela had never been the enemy. She had always just been a mother who loved her sons. It had always been Gabriel...it had always been Gabriel who had feared Peter's love because love had been the one thing that Gabriel had forever craved the most...and the one thing he had been the most frightened of losing._

"Now I let you go." Gabriel sighed heavily, giving one of her milky wrists a small stroke with his thumb. "And I leave you alone. You're right, you've suffered enough and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you and your family. I'll always care about you, Angela. But I'll leave you alone now. I promise."

Angela pursed her lips tightly together. Her eyes were glassy once more, but she was resolute in her strength.

Gabriel pushed himself up off of Angela's form. He got up on one knee and held out his hand for her to steady herself against. She refused to take it though, but he had expected that from her. She climbed onto her hands and knees before pushing herself back up onto her feet. Gabriel followed her; towering over her small and delicate form when he also stood.

_He still admired her...he hadn't lied about caring about her. It's why it always hurt whenever she betrayed him...because he loved her. Because in some ways, she would always be the mother he never had. But he would also be true to his word. He would let her go. Tonight would be the last time he would see her. _


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of the support! I love all of you guys for reading and leaving me such awesome and inspiring reviews! I was just doing this for fun and it's so exciting to see that other people actually like it. Kessi38, as always, I look forward to your reviews after every chapter! And Nickie: I am SO glad that you started reading! Thanks SO MUCH for the great reviews and I am glad that you are enjoying it! A comment on your review: don't worry; there will be more love scenes. ;) After all, we haven't seen how Peter and Gabriel first got together yet, have we? :) But that is all I can say for now!**

**Chapter 25**

_He had followed Peter soon after their departure from the young man's apartment; silently tracking him like some bloodthirsty predator. Sylar kept telling himself the reason he was doing so was simply because Peter Petrelli was never going to leave him alone otherwise. Peter's sharp, hazel eyes had bled revenge, and Sylar had known his rival far too well and for far too long to imagine that the young man would ever give up on something that he had set his mind to._

_Sylar kept his fierce gaze trained on Peter intently; watching as the young hero's dark features continued to become overshadowed by a mix of pain and tumultuous rage. There was a small understanding peaking inside of Sylar's mind that this was a side of Peter that Sylar had never encountered before. Although Peter seemed to have hated Sylar in the past...during their explosive encounter in Kirby Plaza...during Sylar's plan to become the president...in reality, Peter had simply always been the perennial hero...he had only wished to save the world from Sylar, his antithesis._

_But Peter's emotions now...they had nothing to do with good or bad...right or wrong...or even with saving others. No, this was Peter's churning desire to watch as Sylar bled out before him. This was Peter's very overwhelming...and very personal...want to be the one to cut Sylar...to be the one to drain Sylar of his powers this time._

_Peter and Angela had left the young man's apartment soon after Sylar...__Nathan__...had fled the building in horror. Once Sylar had gained his bearings again he decided to pursue them...knowing Peter would no doubt be seeking revenge...knowing he had to be rid of these damned Petrellis if he ever wished to find his sanity again._

_It hadn't been that difficult for Sylar to remain undetected, he simply shape shifted a nurse he had brushed up against while entering the hospital that Peter worked at. Sylar realized that this was the first time he had discovered what Peter actually did for a living. He supposed it was floating around in Nathan's memories too...__yes, he could see some of it now, Peter had become a nurse himself...__but it hadn't really bubbled to his consciousness until now. __Of course Peter would work in medicine...so different from the rest of his selfish family. The young man obviously hadn't been trying to impress anyone...hadn't been desperate to convince his father to grant him the love he knew he could never receive._

_Sylar squint his eyes in disbelief as Peter shoved some syringes and tranquilizers into a large duffle bag. So, Peter was planning on drugging him...__again?_

_How stupid did Peter honestly think he was?_

_The young man seemed to be arguing with Angela...__but their words were lost on Sylar, the only sound he could hear now being the rich crimson of his own blood pulsing through his veins. Just like during the two men's fateful meeting at Claire's homecoming, words were not important to Sylar right now._

_Peter turned determinedly on his heels and began to take powerful, hurried strides down the lobby. Sylar quickened his pace after the other man; his nostrils flaring from the rush of adrenaline that continued to pump through his heated form._

_Peter had headed into an elevator...Sylar reached out to grab the door in order to stop it. Sylar was glad he had spent some time scouting out the hospital floors...the third floor was currently under construction. It would be the perfect place for granting the two men the privacy they needed in order to settle their differences. Sylar pressed the button, knowing full well that Peter's all-consuming eyes were now resting upon him._

_Peter gave Sylar a small nod in greeting, "Hi." __This woman was a coworker of his, no doubt. __However, despite Peter's attempt at a polite response, Sylar could still smell the hot anger that was continuing to roil off of Peter's body._

_Sylar gave a small smile at the thought. "Hello." He replied, just as lightly. Sylar's dark, penetrating eyes swept over Peter's sharp features; taking the other man in completely._

_He saw the brave young man at the homecoming game; dark hair shrouding his face in a veil of innocence._

_He saw Peter, splayed across Mohinder's wall, eye's wide with fear...precious lips trembling with cries...as he denied Sylar access to his beautiful secrets._

_He saw the man he had once thought to be his family...when Peter had rushed back into the lion's den in order to save Sylar from Arthur...refusing to leave him behind._

_He saw Peter glare at him with a murderous desire; eyes spitting all the fires of Hell in his direction. Today, Peter was not an angel of mercy. No...he was very much the Lord's wrathful Angel of Death. And he desired to place his hands on Sylar...for his burning touch to draw Sylar's life from out of his body..._

_Sylar noticed that his eyes had subconsciously wandered along with his thoughts down the length Peter's solid frame. He immediately snapped them back up towards the young man's face as Peter eyed him nervously in response. Peter seemed even more taken aback by the strange smile that had found its way to Sylar's lips._

_Peter returned the smile, politely...__but still some discomfort shone in those sweet, hazel eyes. God, what was Sylar supposed to do with Peter? The one man he could never figure out...Sylar still didn't know how Peter worked..._

_But a cruel reality was also setting in...and Sylar knew exactly what he was supposed to do with Peter now. He had to kill Peter. Nathan's hold would never relinquish as long as Peter lived...stirring all of these feelings of love and kindness towards the young man..._

_And even more pressing than that...Sylar had to kill Peter because the other man would now never rest until Sylar lay dead at his feet._

_Sylar felt his eyes harden as his arm shot out to grab Peter firmly by the throat. He lifted Peter up off the ground, giving a broader smile once Peter began to respond to these actions. His precious gasps of shock...__yes, it was meant to end this way. It was the only fitting conclusion to their shared story. They wouldn't be in the history books...but they had both been men of greatness...and it was too bad one of them had to die now._

_With a mere flick of his hand, Sylar allowed the elevator doors to open before sending Peter flying through them. Peter crashed into the far wall before slumping to the floor in pain._

_Sylar calmly picked up the duffle bag that Peter had dropped. He opened it and pretended to rummage through it; slowing stalking out towards Peter as he did so._

"_Is this all for me?" He hissed sarcastically, as he lifted the bottles of sedation up into the air. He gave a small hint of a smile in Peter's direction before he allowed all the bottles to fall mockingly to the floor. "You shouldn't have." Sylar tipped the duffle bag, watching as everything...tranquilizers...syringes...fell to the ground with crashes and thuds._

"_No, seriously." Sylar continued, a hard edge now falling into both his features and tone of voice. "You really, really shouldn't have."_

_But before Sylar could move towards him any further, Peter had darted off into the haphazard construction zone. Sylar's eyes scanned the room cautiously, trying to gauge where the hero had run off to. A small ghost of a grin spread across his lips as he took several steps forward...__he liked it when Peter ran. It was just like old times that way..._

_Sylar lifted a piece of plastic tarp. Peter was being surprisingly quiet...__the young man had never exactly mastered the art of stealth. __Sylar's dark eyes darted to the far shadows of the room...__but not a hint of his victim anywhere.__ This was hauntingly similar to the old hunts Sylar used to go on while searching for powers...but instead of the thrill of the chase or the ever-demanding pang of hunger driving him forward, there was only one emotion throbbing through him presently. Fear. Yes, this time Sylar was afraid...this time Sylar knew he could just as easily as Peter become the hunted._

"_Listen, Peter." Sylar snapped, the unease of the situation beginning to find its way into his icy tone. "I'm pretty disappointed in you. Your plan was to syringe me in the neck with drugs."_

_Sylar grabbed at some fallen wires and paused to silkily add, "Wasn't that the old plan? I mean, don't get me wrong, congratz for pulling it off in the first place. But fool me twice, you know?" __God, Peter was blending in well to his surroundings...why was Sylar suddenly so blind to what should've been right in front of his eyes?_

"_Yeah, I know." A dark and husky voice broke the hushed quiet, and Sylar felt an acute stab of pain ricochet against his senses as he fell to the ground in a heap._

_Peter was always so full of surprises. Sylar had never figured out how he worked...but that no longer mattered. It was time to say goodbye._

_Sylar felt his hair fall messily into his eyes...__in a strange reversal of appearances...__as Peter stood over him with a clear and sharp focus. He held a wooden board in his hand; his nostrils flaring with spurting hot breaths. Sylar raised his hand to telekinetically throw Peter again, but Peter only continued to hold his ground, his eyes as cold as ice. The young man tossed the wooden board to the floor, his chest rising and falling heavily._

_Nothing. It wasn't working...he had always been able to use this power against Peter...he had once been able to keep Peter pressed to a wall against his will...why wasn't it working now?_

_Sylar felt his own breathing quicken to match Peter's as he glanced down at his hand. He brought it up slowly to place on the spot where Peter had hit him. He turned his own dark eyes towards Peter's, an accusing glare beginning to simmer in them. "What the hell did you do?"_

"_Our Haitian friend." Peter growled, stalking towards Sylar. A rather ferocious expression was beginning to filter into his once soft features. __And Sylar had never seen this look before._

_BAM! __Peter's punch had landed clean across Sylar's face, causing him to fall backwards in a stunned stupor. Peter crouched down onto his knees before wrapping a large hand behind Sylar's neck. __His hazel eyes were so dark...like a raven crying 'nevermore, nevermore'..._

"_I took his ability." Peter added, as he roughly yanked Sylar back onto his feet and threw him to the ground once more. "Mind erasing," He spat, expressively counting on his fingers for cold emphasis. "And power blocking."_

_The cruel sarcasm was biting coming from Peter...and Sylar hardly knew how to react in response. Sylar had expected anger from Peter...a righteous rage, perhaps...but this..._

_Peter's face contorted with fury as he wound up his foot and kicked Sylar powerfully in the stomach. Sylar groaned in pain, clenching his arms around himself as he tried desperately to grasp his bearings once more. He tried to stand, but Peter only responded to this by punching him across the face again._

_Sylar fell back to the ground, his eyes closing in pain. __Peter was like a cobra...moving at lightening speed...venomous fangs sinking into whatever vulnerabilities it could...a hungry wrath was coiling up within Peter before he lunged forward to strike again._

_Peter bent down again, his face distorted with pain, his eyes wild with a trembling anger. "NOW GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK!"_

_Sylar struggled to his hands and knees. He used a quick jab of his elbow to hit Peter in the face, watching as the other man's head jerked back in surprise and pain. Sylar quickly rose to his feet to hit Peter again, sending the young man stumbling backwards._

_God, all the powers in the world and they now fought each other with merely their bare hands. This was the most raw and real the two demigods had ever faced one another, and it seemed as if Fate delighted in the thought of the final battle being decided by the merits of mortal men alone._

_Sylar took advantage of Peter's disorientation by punching him in the face again. Peter stumbled to the floor; clearly stunned as he let out a muffled groan. __But Peter was a scrappy little devil...__he was scrambling to his feet again in no time. But his head was still reeling, and Sylar could tell. He landed another punishing hit to Peter's face, watching in satisfaction when this time that precious, crimson blood spurted forth from Peter's nose._

_Sylar used his height to his advantage, pinning Peter to the wall with a steady arm. "Nathan's really dead, Peter. I should know!" He spat darkly, his eyes hard and bright as he pulled back his fist to punch Peter in the gut...__once...twice...three times...he wanted Peter to bleed...to scream out...to just go away...damn it, go away...it hurt too much to see Peter look at him like this...!_

_But Peter seemed beyond responding to pain as one usually would; some fierce instinct now driving him on like a pit-bull that's jaws have closed on its prey. He brought his knee up into Sylar's stomach, doubling him over in pain. Sylar gasped for air, hardly able to suck in breath as Peter grabbed him by the shoulders and rushed him over to a wooden table._

_Peter slammed Sylar up against the table, his breathing hot and heavy as he squeezed his knees against either side of Sylar's hips, desperate to keep the man trapped where he lay._

_Peter was groaning in want; his eyes bleeding revenge, his lips trembling for revenge, his hands relentless in their rage as they pounded across Sylar's face. "He's still in you!" Peter cried out, as he hit Sylar...__again and again...again and again...as if Peter was drowning in some dark tide pool and only in punching Sylar could he keep his head above the water. __"And I'm gonna get him back."_

_Sylar could feel the warm taste of blood as it surged into his mouth. Peter grabbed him by the shirt collar, winding his arm back to deliver another punch._

_Oh, god. Sylar had never seen Peter like this before. What had he done? Sweet young boy who had once trembled in fear in the presence of the devil...while still holding his ground, believing the Lord to deliver him...Sylar could hardly recognize Peter now. He was shaking with rage; and it seemed as if all that would ever ebb his violent thirst was to drink from the chalice of Sylar's suffering._

"_What are you gonna do...beat him out of me?" Sylar whispered, a hint of a smile ghosting his full lips. Peter's body was heavy on his own...and for once Sylar felt the strange sensation of being held completely at another's mercy._

_Peter continued to glare down at him, before those sharp eyes shifted back up. His eyes widened slightly, and Sylar watched in horror as Peter reached over to grab onto a nail gun that had been sitting on a ledge of the table._

_Peter lifted the gun into the air as he held it with a harsh nonchalance. "Somethin' like that." He hissed, waving the nail gun with sadistic mocking._

_With a dark and impassioned fury, Peter shoved the nail gun up against Sylar's right hand and pulled the trigger...the nail went hurtling through flesh and bone, successfully pinning Sylar. This was fresh and jarring pain...and Sylar had not experienced lasting physical pain in a long time. It pulled the air clean from his lungs as he gasped in agony...his senses completely ravaged._

_Peter's lean form was feeling warm and heavy on top of Sylar's body now. The young man was radiating heat in bright, churning waves of desire. Peter desired to hear Sylar scream out...to beg for mercy...and he was darkly determined not to be denied these wants any longer._

_Peter sent another nail shooting through Sylar's left hand._ _His flushed face showed obvious signs of cruel satisfaction in Sylar's suffering as the young man seemed to take dark pleasure in each of Sylar's high-pitched moans and gasping, shuddering breaths._

_Sylar raised his eyes to meet Peter's once more. The young man's sharp, hazel gaze was bright with something animalistic that Sylar had never seen present in the young man before. There was a terrible understanding forming inside of Sylar now...this hadn't been some twisted game that Sylar always seemed to think he could win...this was ferociously real and scathing. Peter's emotions were washing over Sylar like a torrent of lava now...and Sylar could only feel his skin ignite as he slowly burned in response._

_There was a time in which Peter's forgiveness had seemed enough to hope for...Peter had such a good soul...he was a sweet, sensitive man...his heart seemed capable of boundless love...and yet he now looked at Sylar with such disgust...such burning hatred...such a want to make Sylar scream, to torture him until he felt all the excruciating pain Peter had felt at losing his brother._

"_It hurts, doesn't it?" Peter mocked, his sweaty face inches from Sylar's...his legs straddling Sylar's hips as he pressed him ferociously against the table. Sylar wheezed and moaned in agony...gazing his intense dark eyes into Peter's. It passed through Sylar's mind to wonder if it was so wrong that in all of his fear...in all his self-hatred...in all his anger towards Peter for thinking he was so much better than Sylar even in his torturous vengeful wrath...was it so wrong to feel some sort of perverse desire for the man even now...Peter's body so close to Sylar's...thick brown hair falling messily down his flushed face. Gazing upon Sylar with hatred was better than never gazing upon him at all...__or so the tall, young man had always thought__...and yet, this was different from all the other times he had looked up at Peter, welcoming his abuse. Something about this time was causing Sylar's insides to tremble._

_Sylar felt his breath leave him in deep, ragged breaths. He gave a small squirm, in same vain attempt to push the nails out and heal himself, but he found that he was unable. This motion was not lost on Peter, whose eyes immediately lit up at Sylar's actions._

"_Aww...no healing power." Peter taunted, and the dark fire in his eyes unnerved Sylar...as much as he told himself that he delighted in the fall of the virtuous he knew it only unraveled him further...Peter was supposed to be good...supposed to be the heavenly force that balanced out the devil that Sylar possessed._

_Sylar continued to gasp and groan in pain; the continued stabbing of the nails causing him more agony than he had imagined... his arms trapped and spread on either side of him like some perverse crucifixion._

_Peter gazed at him with vicious delight in his pain, but Sylar sensed the only real emotions present in Peter were an anger and pain so intense it burned without ceasing...Sylar had never seen the pain and hurt he had caused in his victims in such vivid certainty...it made him feel suddenly flooded with conflicting anguish as Peter placed the nail gun to his leg and continued to crucify him..._

_A scream erupted from Sylar's lips, "Oh god!" He cried out, his eyes wide and wild from the pain that was ripping through his being. "Oh god, what do you want?"_

"_I want to make a deal." Peter murmured, those soft, full lips barely parting as they spilled hot, little puffs of air onto Sylar's face. "I'll let you up, I'll let you heal." Peter's eyes darkened, as if to emphasize the seriousness of his following words. "And you give me Nathan back. You give him back to me body and soul."_

_And then what was to become of Sylar? Why did the Petrellis seem to think the world was theirs to manipulate, to twist and distort? And Sylar had always pegged Peter to be so different than the rest of his horrid, little family._

_Sylar released a low, mirthless chuckle. "That sounds like a pretty..." He grunted through his discomfort, intent to appear strong once more in front of Peter. "One sided deal to me."_

_Peter was justified in his anger...justified in his infliction of pain upon Sylar...and Sylar couldn't imagine ever sharing a kinship with this man again. In killing Nathan, Sylar had brought this nightmare upon himself at the moment he had imagined his life would finally hold greater meaning...when he would finally make a difference in this world. That decision had somehow taken everything away from him...Peter was the last man on Earth who could've forgiven Sylar for his sins and now he was gone too...now he hated Sylar almost as much as Sylar hated himself._

"_It is. So what's it gonna be?" Peter snapped, and he brought the nail gun up to Sylar's head...the crucified man eyed it nervously, determined to keep anything but a serene calm from spreading across his flushed face. He would not allow Peter to enjoy this anymore than he was...despite everything, Sylar was unwavering in his desire to always appear in control._

_Sylar cried out in excruciating pain...__Peter had sent the nail tearing through his other thigh, and it burned as if a thousand blazing knives were ripping into his skin.__ He had almost forgotten what it had felt like to hurt this much physically...but he also held a tremendous willpower and he forced his screams into humorless, rough laughter...gazing up at Peter with just as much stubborn conviction as he knew resided inside of Peter himself. _

"_Oh...you're gonna need..." Sylar snorted, roughly, setting his jaw in furious determination. "...a lot more nails in that thing!"_

_Peter appeared completely lost for a moment...and Sylar felt his anger for himself double...he had wanted Peter to hurt him...to kill him...to end this misery...even as he knew he never wished to die. But as Peter continued to beat him senselessly across the face, Sylar welcomed it...his physical wounds always healed...it was the spiritual ones that scarred deeper than it was ever possible to fix._

_Peter finally stopped with his punches...with his mad need for revenge...with his dark desire to inflict torture on the man who withered beneath him. Peter was breathing heavily, the lean muscles in his chest rising and falling...and Sylar couldn't help but look up at him with wide, dark brown eyes of his own. Peter was still so...so intensely __beautiful__ somehow..._

"_That's fine." Peter decided, gruffly. Sylar felt the scorching touch of the young man's hand as he firmly pressed his palm up against Sylar's sweaty forehead. __How long had he wished for Peter to touch him like this...and now it only hurt. __"I'll just take away everything that's you until Nathan is the only one left."_

"_I would love to see you try." Sylar murmured, a ghost of a smirk whispering across his flushed face. His perfect mask...his protective shield...always so preciously in place. Sylar was never to be vulnerable...he was made of stone. Peter would never know anything he truly felt._

_And then...Sylar emitted a pained groan as an immense amount of pressure rushed into his brain...seeking to tear him apart...threatening to erase whatever had once belonged to him._

"_C'mon, Nathan, I know you're in there." Peter hissed, the weight of his palm forcing Sylar's head to tilt back up against the table._

"_Go ahead..." Sylar had moaned, mocking and sincerity all present in his angry, embittered words. "KILL ME!"_

"_C'mon, I can't do this alone!" Peter begged, his heated touch still burning into Sylar's mind. Nathan felt Peter too...felt Peter's desperation...and Nathan only wanted to help Peter...and comfort Peter...and fight like hell, if only for his little brother's sake..._

"_PLEASE!" Peter yelled, and the man beneath him...__Sylar...Nathan...who knew__...felt his eyes roll up into the back of his head. He released a strangulated cry as his head hit against the hard wood of the table. He felt himself change again...__to become whatever it was that Peter had wanted him to be. Nathan...Sylar...both only ever wanted to see Peter smile..._

_The rough press of Peter's palm disappeared...a much softer and gentler touch found its way to the cheek of the man who lay beneath him...pressing against it once more with a sudden, fervent sweetness that had been so absent in all of his other touches tonight._

"_Pete." Nathan breathed out, smiling._

"_Is it really you?" Peter choked out, as his lips trembled furiously. He looked so painfully hopeful...__but so terrified that his eyes were once again deceiving him._

_Nathan nodded, weakly. "Yeah." __Something about Peter's presence always healed him. Nathan might've been stuck in this sick, twisted, psychotic mind...but Peter's love was always strong enough to pull him back out._

_Peter released an aching, relived laugh at last. His face split into a wide, bright smile...__and looking upon this memory now, Gabriel realized that Nathan knew this smile well. It was not the boyish, half-grin that Peter usually gave._

_It was so raw...and so human...and so free._

_And Peter had never smiled at Gabriel like that._

* * *

Gabriel walked quietly towards the stairwell in Angela's apartment building. The fog that always seemed to be permeating his mind had finally cleared; and he reflected upon his relationship with Peter with a much firmer understanding than he ever had before.

Of course...Gabriel had always craved to _know _and to _have_...but he had never learned to give or to trust...to trust that Peter could be gentle with Gabriel's fragile heart. Because as soft and loving as Peter always was..._Gabriel was so jagged and so unlovable. _And there was the pain they both carried over a shared history that they refused to relinquish..._the fact that Peter would always love and be loyal to Nathan above anyone else._ And no matter what they told themselves, they both knew that Gabriel was still insanely hungry..._and Peter was the weary warden that kept him well-fed._

Gabriel could still feel his pulse cry out for Jennifer..._knowing that she had been near him so many times and he had never even suspected the sweet gift that had flowed through her veins. _He tried not to dwell on her any longer, but the same part of his mind that had once begged him to scrub his dishes until they were spotless..._also begged him to touch Jennifer...to unlock the mystery...to soak up the delicious secrets that she held._

Gabriel sat down heavily on the stairs, his heart thundering in his chest. He clenched his jaw together as his eyes squeezed shut. _He needn't anymore powers. He shouldn't just take...take...take...he needed to give. He needed to give his gifts to others...to use them to save people...he needed to give Peter his space this weekend...to allow his lover the chance to grieve with the shattered remains of his family...he needed to give Peter his love...more than physically...he had to __say__ it...and it didn't matter if Peter rejected him for it. He needed to look Peter in the eye...__those beautiful, sharp eyes__...and he had to let Peter know unequivocally and without reservation that Gabriel loved him deeply...and since the moment he had first laid eyes on him over three years ago._

Gabriel gave a soft moan..._as he remembered the moment he had cut the deep, crimson gash across Peter's forehead. _If he could go back in time he would've kissed him instead..._kissed his seductive captive fully on the mouth; drinking Peter up as he tasted that dark hair crushed against their lips...Gabriel wouldn't have cut it off this time._

_He had never figured out how Peter worked. And he had never told Peter, but sometimes...sometimes when he was having a particular rough day dealing with his curse...sometimes he still wondered...sometimes he still felt a rough pang in his stomach. He wanted to absorb Peter's power...to feel that warmth course into him...to __know__ how Peter worked finally...to be able to please him and love him and be sure that Peter would never leave because now Gabriel would've known how all the pieces fit together._

_Gabriel remembered an incident early in their relationship, when Gabriel had spent the night at Peter's apartment. Something had happened to him during the night...maybe it was a dream...maybe it was just an old demon resurfacing...but something had triggered his hunger. He awoke in a cold sweat, trembling and groaning. A powerful throb was rippling through him in waves as he clenched his hands to his aching heart._

_He drew in heaving and shuddering breaths, trying to calm the racing pressure that was culminating in his mind. It was a familiar call, but one he no longer wished to answer: they were in a city of millions...and somewhere...somewhere within the masses there were hundreds of little special ones...they're powers all crying out to his damned soul. He needn't even spill their innocent blood...he only needed touch them...just brush his hands to theirs..._

_Gabriel released a choked sob. __No, no, no. It hurt so bad to deny it. After escaping the wall, these episodes would sometimes come upon him, but they would be fleeting. They would last moments, maybe, but he was usually able to suppress them without much duress. This time it was different. This time there was something screaming his name...this time there was a warm glow pressed all over his body...this time there were so many beautiful, delightful powers...that were broken...so broken...and he needed to fix them so desperately..._

_Gabriel blinked, confused, as he followed the source of the warmth...the warmth that was caressing and cajoling him with its powerful seduction. Like a drug to an addict, there lay his beautiful Peter...eyes closed; long lashes fluttering against his slumbering, innocent face._

_Oh, god. It was Peter...Peter's powers that were his siren song. He wanted to know how Peter worked...he wanted so badly to reach out and take that warm power source for his own...he wanted Peter's powers to penetrate him and fill him up...satisfying his trembling urges._

_Gabriel stumbled out of bed, only clad in his pajama bottoms. He ran trembling fingers over the tautness of his stomach as he tried to pull back his wanting. He walked over to Peter's bedroom window, pressing his forehead against the cold glass as he released a low moan. __He wanted to know how Peter worked...Peter's power was broken and Gabriel knew he could tinker with it until it kept time again...and more than that, he wanted to know what made Peter so beautiful, what made him feel the emotions of other's with as much clarity as he felt his own...what made Peter feel everything...passion, love, abandonment during lovemaking...so deeply. It's what he had always wanted...because if Gabriel could understand how Peter worked than maybe he could finally understand how to make a relationship between the two of them work..._

"_Gabriel?" Peter murmured, his voice cutting into Gabriel's throbbing thoughts with his rough, husky tone. Gabriel didn't dare look at him, keeping his head pressed firmly against the windowsill. Peter pressed on, still sounding very sleepy. "Gabriel, what's wrong, man?"_

"_Go back to sleep." Gabriel urged, a little harsher than he had meant to. He squeezed his eyes shut in annoyance at himself, allowing his voice to soften considerably. __He still couldn't keep the slight shaky quality out of it though, much to his chagrin. __"I...I don't want you to...s-see me...like __this__."_

"_Like what?" And Peter was clearly wide awake now as he pushed himself out of bed. __Gabriel could feels his insides coil tightly as the warm power source began to near him. Oh, god...it would be so easy to just take Peter's power without any more pain or suffering...but that was something he knew he could never do. He would never again try and take from Peter that which was not his to have._

"_What's wrong?" Peter demanded, his large hands placing themselves on Gabriel's shoulders. Gabriel released a short cry, his long, wiry form stiffening considerably. __He hurt so bad. He hurt, he hurt, he hurt...god, there was no relief..._

"_It's the hunger..." Gabriel gasped, fearing Peter's reaction to his words...__his certain disgust...his remembrance of the monster that Gabriel truly was.__ Gabriel shook his head, hot tears clouding his vision. "It's...it's hurting me...tonight."_

_Things were still so new between the two men. Things were still so uncertain in their relationship. Things were still so preciously fragile._

_Gabriel pressed his forehead harder into the glass, his heated breath fogging it as he released shuddering gasps. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he gritted his teeth together...__god, he hated himself...he HATED himself...and he was certain Peter would hate him too..._

_But there was no disgust. There was no reproach. There was no judgment. There was only Peter's warm embrace as he pulled Gabriel flesh against him. There were only the soothing kisses of Peter's lips as they pressed against Gabriel's ashen forehead. There was only forgiveness...and understanding...and love...__and Gabriel was so undeserving._

"_Come back to bed." Peter whispered, his strong arms encircled around Gabriel's body. He placed his chin on top of Gabriel's shoulder. "Come on, I'm gonna hold you until this breaks."_

_And Peter was true to his words, his arms cradling Gabriel tightly, murmuring soft promises of comfort whenever Gabriel's body began to tremble roughly, or whenever Gabriel began to moan with pain, or whenever Gabriel felt as if he could no longer breathe._

_Peter held him for hours...until the stars turned to the morning dawn...never once mentioning that he had to work an afternoon shift that day...never once thinking of himself...only clinging to Gabriel closely...only threading gentle fingers through Gabriel's coarse, dark hair._

"_It's y-your p-power..." Gabriel groaned, his teeth chattering as he rolled his eyes up towards Peter's calming face. Both men were struggling with a weariness that had hours ago seeped into them, and Gabriel found that he was now speaking much more freely to Peter about his current condition. Peter gave a soft nod as Gabriel continued in a whispered tone, "It's s-so w-warm...warmer than...than any p-power...I've...I've ever felt...before..."_

"_My power?" Peter repeated, a dark cloud finding its way to his soft gaze. He quirked his lips to the side with obvious discomfort. "You can __feel__ my power?"_

"_It's so w-warm..." Gabriel let out a choked heave, he felt Peter double his grip in response. __It was so comforting...to know that he could fall, but that Peter would always be there to catch him whenever it become too overwhelming. __"Oh...it's w-warm...v-very w-warm..."_

_Peter pursed his lips together, and Gabriel could see he was deep in thought. "Gabriel..." He whispered, his own voice now coming out low and choked. He leaned a bit lower towards Gabriel's ear, a gentle understanding filtering his voice. "Gabriel...if...if you need something...you know it's yours..."_

_Gabriel let out a loud moan, all of his senses drowning with Peter's simple words. __His precious, unselfish, Peter. No, no...he couldn't take Peter's power. No, that was Peter's beautiful secret to keep. The warmth was meant for him alone...he could share the warmth with Gabriel from time to time...but it could never be Gabriel's to hoard._

"_Peter..." Gabriel forced a smile onto his quivering lips, his hand coming up to grab onto Peter's wrist possessively. "Oh, my sweet, beautiful Peter..." Gabriel buried his head into Peter's chest...the young man's loving heart resounding in Gabriel's ears. He gave a soft, sad smile as he murmured, "I can't. I can't...your hair was long when we first met."_

_Peter's grip tightened around him once more. There was a regretful understanding that accompanied those words, but an understanding nonetheless._

"_Then I'll just hold you." Peter insisted, gently but with a firm determination._

_And he did...all through the night...all through the suffering...until it lessened...until it slowly dissipated...until Gabriel fell asleep in Peter's arms. When Gabriel awoke again, he found Peter asleep in a chair next to the bed...his hands clutching a cold cup of coffee, his mouth wide open as he emitted several loud snores._

_Gabriel gave a small smile as he took the covers off of the bed and draped them over Peter's sleeping form. He never loved Peter more than he did at that moment._

_He really should have told him that._

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel drew in a deep breath..._this time he could hear the husky calling of his name in more than just his memories._ He lifted his head slowly out of his hands, his heart beating with small palpitations. He was almost afraid to see who it was who stood before him now..._and yet he was also so desperately hoping that it was exactly who he thought it to be._

Gabriel blinked slightly; gazing up at the young man who stood over him, a few steps down from where Gabriel sat at the top. Such a handsome man...dark hair was falling lightly in his face as he folded strong arms over his broad chest. His full lips pursed in concern as he gazed down with a bright, sharp gaze.

Gabriel let out a small, shaky sigh as his eyes began to sweep the young man's face appreciatively. _Oh, Peter. It was his handsome, sweet Peter and Gabriel had missed him so much. In the solemnity of this moment nothing else seemed to matter in the least. The only thing that was of any importance now was simply having Peter wrapped in his arms once again._

"_Peter..._" Gabriel breathed out, hurriedly scrambling to his feet in order to throw his arms around Peter's form. He pulled the other man into a warm, crushing embrace..._Peter's broad chest pressing comfortingly against his own. _Gabriel breathed in Peter's intoxicating, masculine scent, taking in every inch of the young man as he held him close. _Peter was so warm...and Gabriel had missed him so much. _Gabriel let out a low moan as he turned his head to press full lips into the side of Peter's soft neck. _And he never wanted to stop kissing Peter again. God, that soft taste of Peter's flesh was completely exhilarating as Gabriel continued to nip at him gently._

"_Oh god_..." Peter murmured, but Gabriel was dismayed to hear that his tone was layered with horror rather than relief. Gabriel felt a dull ache rivet his insides as Peter's hands shoved up against the taller man's chest, separating them once more.

The two men stared at each other in silence. Somehow, their time apart had done nothing to bridge the distance that had been growing between them.

_Peter's face...Gabriel noticed it again with a sudden stab of sorrow. Peter still had splotchy yellow and purple bruises around his eye and nose...his lip still held a bloodied scab from being split. Something they had shared had been broken...and had not yet healed._

Peter pursed his lips, angrily. His eyes continued to blaze, a dark brown mixing with an olive green. He shook his head resolutely, his chest beginning to rise and fall in growing anxiety. "You're covered in _blood_." He seethed, taking several demanding steps towards Gabriel. He stuck a finger towards Gabriel's face. "What the hell happened tonight?"

Gabriel took a step back, steadying himself against the stairwell's railing. He nervously ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes lowering towards the floor before rising back up to meet Peter's. "Peter..." He beseeched, his voice coming out barely above a strained whisper. _He didn't want Peter angry at him...he needed to fix this. He needed to heal them, to reestablish the love that surely had never gone away. _Gabriel tried to give Peter a comforting smile, taking a step forward of his own. "Peter...please just give me a chance to explain all of this..."

"You've got about five seconds to explain!" Peter snapped, gruffly. He looked angry but there was something else brimming in his eyes with an equal ferocity..._worry. He had been scared and now he was deeply shaken, pouring out all of his fears into heated accusations._

"Peter...your mother is fine." Gabriel insisted, raising a hand to place on his chest. His eyes continued to dart away, almost unable to take the heat that was radiating off of Peter's form. "But let's go somewhere else so that we can talk..."

"No!" Peter hissed, taking another determined step towards Gabriel. _He was holding his ground as always. _"No, Gabriel. You are telling me what happened _right now_. Where's my mother?"

"Peter..._please_..." Gabriel shook his head in frustration as Peter cut him off without hesitation, continuing to demand answers from him.

"I had a dream about this." Peter hissed, pushing his finger towards Gabriel's chest once more. "That someone got hurt and..."

"Yeah, I got _stabbed_." Gabriel explained, reaching out to take hold of one of Peter's wrists in an attempt to calm the other man's raging flow of emotions. He pulled Peter closer to him, their noses almost touching. "Your mother is fine, Peter. I didn't harm her..."

"You shouldn't even be here!" Peter shouted, and Gabriel felt his heart break in his chest as he fully began to recognize the betrayal that now burned in Peter's gaze. _Even when separated for days, Peter had still trusted Gabriel to continue to do the right thing without him. But without Peter, what was Gabriel...?_

"Why did you come here tonight?" Peter groaned, softer this time. His face was wracked with pain; his eyes glassed over with heartache. "_Why, _Gabriel..."

Gabriel sighed heavily as he gave Peter's wrist a loving squeeze. "I came here for _us_, Peter. So that we could have a future together."

Peter began to shake his head in dismay, but Gabriel knew he had to push on. _Peter would forgive him. Peter would forgive him for this transgression...damn it, Peter always could find it in his heart to forgive Gabriel whether Gabriel ever deserved it or not. _"I came here so that Angela would leave us alone. But that was wrong of me...and..." Gabriel watched as Peter looked away from him in disappointment. Gabriel's felt his temper flare slightly in his chest, but he was determined not to lose it. He continued on with a careful control, "It was wrong and I'm sorry. And I told her that I was sorry..."

"Oh, why does this sound so familiar?" Peter interjected, roughly. He swung his head back around to face Gabriel, a dark mocking shining in those bright eyes. "'_I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting your family, Peter. It's never gonna happen again'..._"

"Please don't do that, Peter." Gabriel murmured, his voice coming out rough and choked. "What do you want me to say?"

"That's just it, I shouldn't always have to tell you! I'm tired of _this..._I'm tired of what you do to us!" Peter shouted, ripping his wrist out of Gabriel's grasp. He shook his head, running a hand wildly through his hair, leaving it more mussed than before.

"Everything I do is _for _us!" Gabriel insisted, his face contorting with sincerity. "I want _more _for us, Peter. I want us to have...to have a life together. I want us to have...a family someday..." Peter's eyes widened at the admittance with unreadable emotion, but Gabriel's words soon trailed off, his eyes catching a figure that had rounded the stairwell suddenly. _Soft, emerald eyes...bouncy, golden curls that whispered across her round face. Pretty, little Claire. She was here...god, she was here and Gabriel was certain from the look of pained disgust that was painting her sweet face that she had just heard everything._

"Claire." Gabriel whispered, and all air was suddenly sucked from both his lungs and the very room. Gabriel averted his eyes nervously, noting that she was only clad in her nightwear. He wanted to say more..._how long had he prepared all that he had meant to say to her if only given the chance..._and now he found that all he could do was shuffle his feet in discomfort, his mouth dry and at a complete loss of words.

"What the hell is going on?" Claire demanded, her hands placed on her hips. She turned to her uncle, her eyes blazing in disbelief. "Peter, what is he saying...?"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut as one of his hands came up to wearily cover them. He took in a deep breath, unable to look over at Claire as he struggled to answer her. "Oh, Claire."

"You're...you're with _him_?" Claire hissed, her eyes narrowing as she continued to stare at Peter. _It was as if Gabriel didn't even exist anymore...or at the very least, she was refusing to acknowledge his presence._

Neither man answered her. Gabriel felt his hands tremble at his sides..._from both despair and anger_. _How dare she act as if Peter's love for Gabriel was somehow disgusting or unfathomable? And Peter wasn't even saying anything in response...why didn't Peter defend their relationship? Why did he just stand there quietly...as if ashamed of everything beautiful the two men had shared together? And pretty, little Claire...such a sweet, innocent thing...why did she continue to hate him so...why did she refuse to even look at him? __It wasn't supposed to have gone like this. Claire wasn't supposed to be here. He hated this feeling...everyone's eyes glaring at him accusingly, all his faults laid bare...knowing that he deserved all of their disdain even as he had desperately hoped that he had somehow risen above it._

Gabriel released an agonized cry, pushing past Peter as he did..._past pretty, hateful little Claire..._and hurried down the stairwell in anguish. _He didn't know where he was running off to...he could never escape himself after all...and at the moment that was the person he wanted to be rid of the most._

"Gabriel!" Peter cried out, trying to grab onto the other man's arm as he ran by, but Gabriel shrugged his shoulder out of Peter's grasp. He finally reached the bottom of the stairs, pushing his way out into the rainy night; water falling down from the heavens in sheets.

_He had to be away from everyone. He had gone through too much tonight as it was...dealing with Angela...dealing with truth of his biological mother...dealing with the realization that he was unable to vocalize his love because he knew himself to be so unworthy of it...he just wanted silence. He couldn't face Peter...couldn't see Peter tell him that he had broken the young man's trust...that he had ruined Peter's relationship with Claire...that it was too late to fix that which was broken._

"Gabriel!" Peter shouted again, his voice almost getting lost in the storm. Gabriel swung his head around, watching as Peter hurried towards him; dark hair stuck to the sides of his face. The rain continued to pour down on him, his clothes also beginning to hug his form.

Gabriel ran his hand through his wet hair, trying to push it out of his eyes. He spread his arms wide, shaking his head sadly. "What do you want from me, Peter? I know what I did was wrong. I know that you deserve a better explanation for what I did. But I couldn't talk to you with Claire there..."

"You came here tonight because you wanted my mom out of my life." Peter interrupted his face hard and cold as he spoke. "Is that right?"

Gabriel gave a small shrug of his shoulders. _He could deny it, but to what use. He was completely transparent to Peter and both men knew it. _"Yes." He finally admitted, the warm summer night's rain dripping down his nose and onto his lips. "But that's not what I want anymore, Peter."

"But that doesn't matter! You knew _before_ I didn't want you talkin' to my mom. You knew that, Gabriel, and you didn't respect that." Peter insisted, pointing at Gabriel accusingly.

Gabriel nodded his head, bitterly. "I know. You're trying to protect her and..."

"It was about protectin' you!" Peter snapped, slapping one hand over the other for emphasis. "I knew she wanted you dead and you knew that too. What did you honestly think you were gonna accomplish tonight?" Peter placed his hands on his hips, his eyes watching Gabriel intently. "You just wanted to force me into having to choose between the two of you."

"I don't want that anymore." Gabriel insisted, hoping his face..._his tone of voice..._was conveying some sort of truthfulness..._some sort of sincerity. But being sincere had often been lost on him, and he wondered if that's why all his 'sorrys' always came across as hollow. _He held out a hand, beseechingly. "I was wrong, Peter. I was _wrong_."

"Ah..." Peter groaned, placing a hand to his forehead. He looked up towards the skies, his face constricted with a heavy burden, just like the accumulated grey clouds. When he finally spoke, his voice was filled with hurt and regret. "That's just not good enough, Gabriel."

_Why was simple human connection...human empathy...so difficult for Gabriel to maintain a grasp on? He stared at Peter as if the young man were speaking a language he had learned but had never become fluent in. The words always came to him jumbled...he had to work through them slowly...and by that time, it was always too late to respond appropriately. It made him angry...__at himself__...frustrated...__at Peter__...and even as he struggled to maintain his composure he could feel the familiar rage he had struggled with since his youth beginning to well up in his chest...pooling and overflowing in excess...but no, he had to stop this. He had to change...he had to change...__he had to believe that somewhere deep down he could change himself...to fix things that he always broke...to heal things that he always hurt._

"What do you want from me, Peter?" Gabriel demanded, his dark eyes wide with anguish. He sighed in frustration, the summer rain continuing to hit against his skin like hellfire now. He gestured towards Peter, hopelessly. "Fine, you know that I'm selfish...you know I can never do the right thing unless you're there holding my hand..."

"That's just it, Gabriel!" Peter shouted, taking several forceful steps towards the other man. His face was brimming with tension. "That's just it; I don't _wanna_ hold your hand anymore!"

"Then what do you want?" Gabriel snapped, closing their proximity even farther..._his own form towering over Peter's with heated dominance. He had always relished that. _"I'm only human, Peter. I can only say things like 'I'm sorry'. I can't _change _anything."

"You're right, you _don't _change anything. Because you keep doing the same things that you _know _hurt me." Peter retorted, shoving his finger into Gabriel's chest. "So maybe that's why I'm sick of your apologies. Because you think you can do whatever you want to me...I don't know, throw me up against a wall...break into my mom's house...and I'm gonna forgive your sorry ass!" Peter shook his head in disgust. "I'm _done_, Gabriel. I'm done. And you _still _don't even get it. All you keep asking me is what _I _want you to say. If you really cared about me at all, don't you think you would _know_?"

Gabriel closed his eyes, the rain continuing to wind down his face and chest like some transparent serpent. He opened his eyes again..._yes; he did know what he was supposed to say. For the first time in his life, he had to say I love you. And yes, he might have to deal with the consequences once such powerful words were said...but if he ever truly wanted love in return than he had to give it. He could no longer take, take, take...and he no longer wanted to._

"Peter..." Gabriel murmured, reaching out to take the other man's hand in his own. He was surprised when Peter allowed him too, the young man's large hand fitting easily into Gabriel's grasp. Gabriel gave a pained smile, a choked chuckle whispering past his lips. _Oh, god...he was finally ready to say the words. And he was...so overwhelmed. It was as if he and Peter were making love, and he was awash with emotions and sensations. _He gave a small shake of his head, a smile spreading across his face. "God, Peter..."

"What?" Peter breathed out, his eyes watching Gabriel's face closely. "What is it?"

_A hushed silence had fallen over both of them. Gabriel lifted Peter's hand to his lips...he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his lover's thumb...the smile still whispering across his full lips._

"I love you, Peter..." Gabriel murmured, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He could feel Peter's hand tremble beneath his lips administrations. _And he wanted to take in the expression of Peter's face when the words were spoken...but Gabriel found he was still too overcome by his own shyness. _"Oh, I love you..."

"_Gabriel_..." Peter hissed, his voice still laced with pain and uncertainty.

_No, no. This moment was going to be perfect. This was the moment that Peter was finally going to understand. He would finally realize that he and Gabriel were always meant to be._

"It was always you, Peter..." Gabriel whispered, moving on to press lips against the tip of Peter's index finger. "It was _always _you. I loved you since the moment I first saw you_..._you were so _good_...so _innocent. _I know I hurt you at the time, but it didn't change how I _felt _about you..." Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay..._but he was so overwhelmed. _"When we...when we met...that time at Mohinder's..._and you stopped me_." Gabriel sucked in a shaky breath, the words tumbling uncensored from his lips. "I knew then...I knew you were my song...my song of salvation that could stop me from..."

"_Gabriel..._" Peter moaned, and Gabriel felt the sensation of those warm fingers being pulled out of his grasp. "Gabriel, please_ stop_."

Gabriel's eyes fluttered open...and he was shocked when he saw the indignant anger that shone from Peter's sharp features. The young man was blinking heavily..._glassy eyes shining in the lightening the lit up the clouds behind them_.

"Don't tell me to stop." Gabriel pleaded, uncertain why his words had such a profoundly different effect on Peter than he had meant them to. "Don't tell me to stop, I've needed to explain this to you for so long. It's the reason we're _supposed _to be together..."

"What, because _you _loved me!" Peter shouted, his words trembling out of those precious lips..._contorted to the side in their sudden fury. _"Because _you _loved me while I was _terrified _of you! You loved me when you _cut_ my head open! When you _forced _me to blow up and almost kill Nathan..." Peter stopped talking suddenly, a new and terrible realization dawning on both of them. Peter blinked quickly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "When you _did _kill Nathan. What...you loved me then? You loved me then?!"

Gabriel watched Peter as if he were suddenly looking at a stranger. _This wasn't right. Oh, god...he still didn't know all the words of this song. He still didn't know this language; he kept getting all the words backwards..._

"Peter...that's not what I meant..." Gabriel murmured, helplessly.

"Then what the hell do you mean?" Peter shouted, his emotions filtering into his ever-expressive features. He threw his arms up in hopelessness, as he continued to stare at Gabriel incredulously. "Do you actually think that I wanna hear that? That you loved me back then? If you loved me so damn much then why did you kill him?"

Gabriel remained silent, his hands trembling at his sides. _There was nothing to say. It seemed as if it always came back to this and he never knew what the right answer was. He had killed Nathan. No apologies, no admittance of wrongdoing, absolutely nothing could change the fact that he had killed Nathan._

"Why?" Peter demanded again, his eyes spitting fire. When Gabriel still remained silent, the young man released a raging growl, his hands clenching into fists. "WHY?"

"Why WHAT, Peter!" Gabriel exploded, his anger..._at himself, at Peter..._now tumbling from his lips in anguish. He ran his hand through his clinging, wet hair. "Why did I kill Nathan? Because I was an evil monster. Because I didn't care! What else can I say? I _do _care now, I'm _not _a monster anymore, and that's still not bringing Nathan back! But you're never going to stop punishing me, are you?"

Peter took several steps back as if Gabriel had just slapped him across the face. He shook his head; his breathing coming out in heated the spurts.

_Gabriel couldn't allow this moment to slip away. Throughout his life he had allowed so many words to go unsaid that needed to be said. This time it was going to be different. This time he would hold nothing back. This time he would be vulnerable._

"I loved you because I knew you were the only man who could stop me." Gabriel continued, his words like the clouds..._letting the downpour of rain fall where it may. _"You were like me...but so different from me. I wanted to be like you! I wanted to use these powers...to be a hero. To save people!" Gabriel gestured towards Peter, hopefully. "And you saved me. I know I never deserved it, but when you forgave me..."

Peter shook his head again, stumbling back further away from Gabriel as he did so. "No, Gabriel, stop..."

"No! You need to listen to me!" Gabriel snapped, taking two steps forward to grab onto Peter's arm..._he would not allow Peter to slip away from him. Peter was never going to leave. Not once he finally understood. _"When you forgave me, I..."

"But I never _did _forgive you!" Peter cried out, throwing Gabriel's arm away from him, his face contorted with fury. "Not for killing Nathan!"

The darkness lit up all around them, both their eyes reflecting sharply in the harsh glow of the lightening. Gabriel and Peter continued to watch each other, shadows overtaking them once more after a moment of sight.

_Silence befell them...the thunderclap overhead the only noise now. Gabriel felt his rapid heartbeat begin to slow to crawl...no, no...no...no matter what Gabriel had ever doubted about their relationship he had never doubted that. He had never doubted that Peter had forgiven him. No, if the forgiveness hadn't been real, than had nothing been real...? Every kiss, every touch, every intimate embrace, every 'I love you'...? _

"That's not true." Gabriel breathed out, shakily. He bared his teeth furiously, refusing to believe his own ears. "You're lying to me. You're trying to hurt me because you're angry..."

"He was my brother." Peter hissed, tears now glistening along with the clinging rainwater. "I loved him more than you'll ever understand. And you're right, I _am _punishing you. And it's wrong...but I don't know how to stop. I don't know _everything_!"

"But you're supposed to!" Gabriel shouted, spreading his arms around himself in wild abandonment. He gazed upon Peter's face..._pleading...begging that this wasn't true. Gabriel had found love...someone had finally loved him! God, he couldn't lose it now..._

"You're supposed to save _me_..." Gabriel concluded softly, his voice now low and filled with overflowing sadness. "I need you to save me."

"Is that what this was to you? You just said that you loved me because I could _stop _you." Peter pursed his lips together, the anger still roiling off of him in waves. "That's all I am to you. I'm your warden, Gabriel. I'm makin' sure that you don't go crazy again, right?" Peter gave a harsh laugh, his eyes still dark and intense. "If I'm not around, you don't know what you'll do!"

"But I do have you around..." Gabriel insisted, helplessly, but once more Peter impatiently cut him off.

"Don't you get it? That's not a relationship!" Peter yelled, his form now becoming blurry in the downpour. "That's not right...for me or you! You have to trust that you can be a good person without me around. And I can't...I can't keep puttin' myself through this."

"But you love me." Gabriel hissed, hot tears now stinging his vision. He gritted his teeth together..._to choke back the sudden rush of pain_. "You love me and that's why we're together."

"Just because I love you doesn't mean that we should be together." Peter sighed, running his hand through his sopping wet hair. There was a finality to Peter's actions..._to his words, and Gabriel had the strangest urge to clamp his hands over his ears, to refuse to hear them._

"I...I just don't think that this is healthy for either of us, Gabriel." Peter murmured, his eyes darting up to meet Gabriel's darkening gaze.

_No, he couldn't lose Peter. He needed Peter's love...Peter's forgiveness...and this couldn't be the end. So many times Peter had tried to escape him only for Gabriel to chase him all across the country. Only for them to end up in each other's arms where they belonged. _

"_No_." Gabriel moaned, and he heard the pitiful begging that had found its way into his choked voice. "No, Peter. I love you. I know I didn't say it soon enough, but..." Gabriel gave a pained smile, trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to surge forth. "We love each other. We _love _each other..."

"It's not enough anymore." Peter whispered, a sadness filtering into his features as well..._he was growing softer now...he was trying to be gentler...trying to break something that he knew from experience hurt like hell to break apart._

"But...but I can change...I can be better." Gabriel insisted, desperately. A sharp stabbing was starting to cut into his heart..._his chest was literally aching with a very real, very physical pain. There was nothing metaphorical about the term heartbreak. _"I can be...whatever you need me to be."

"No, that's not how it works." Peter groaned, blinking heavily now as he pressed a fist to his lips. "All we ever do, over and over again, is hurt each other, Gabriel. I'm tired...and I know that you must be tired too."

_But isn't that what a relationship was? Hurting one another only because you knew that it felt better than experiencing that exact same pain alone?_

"But I'm never going to hurt you again, Peter." Gabriel promised..._cursing himself for having promised the exact same thing so many times before. He meant it this time, but he was certain Peter would no longer believe him. _He blinked quickly, trying to make his next words not sound desperate or pitiful. "Let's just go home. Please?"

Peter sighed, his eyes glassy, his lips pursed tightly together. "Think about what you're even saying." He gestured, helplessly, towards the taller man. "Even if we do go home together, then what? We're gonna wake up in the morning and...all of this is just gonna follow us. I...I don't even know the _real_ reason that you're in love with me anymore."

"What do you mean; you don't know why I love you?" Gabriel demanded, trying to suck in the air that seemed to be evading his lungs. _Everything ached within him...his heart was causing a throbbing pain every time it beat. _"You're my world, Peter. You're my salvation. I need you...and you want to help me...because you love me...I know that you still do..."

Peter closed his eyes at Gabriel's words..._and Gabriel felt another knife pierce his heart. Tears blurred his visions as he clenched his jaw together. God, this hurt so much. It was like a nightmare he could never awake from...it was like his chest was imploding...it was like someone was tearing him apart from the inside. Nothing was making this pain subside...he kept searching for the right words...but they only seemed to intensify his agony. This was nothing any power could cure...Claire's ability rendered useless...he was left to feel every mortal injury._

"I love you!" Gabriel shouted, his control slowly slipping away from him. _He didn't care if he looked insane...he didn't care if he looked hysterical. This was it...he needed to place all his cards on the table...he needed to leave it all laid bare. _"I don't care if you can't forgive me! I don't care if you hate me! Just feel something..._anything_...just don't leave me alone! I love you! I love you...I love you..._I love you..._DAMN IT!" Gabriel buried his face in his hands..._knowing he hadn't said the words soon enough...knowing that he was watching his father walk out the door and never come back...knowing that he was watching his mother fall to ground, lifelessly...knowing that he was seeing everything he ever loved and cared for being torn away from him once more._

Peter pursed his lips together, giving a loud sniff to contain his own emotions. He stared at Gabriel with eyes that seemed to beg for forgiveness as well. _Because there was nothing left to say that they hadn't already shouted at each other hundreds of times before. But Peter didn't want to shout anymore. Peter was tired...and hurt...and didn't want to say anything in the heat of an argument that he would come to regret. And deep down, Gabriel felt the same way._

Peter reached his hand out towards Gabriel. "I love you too." He rasped out, his voice barely above a whisper. He took in a deep breath, one hand coming up to press against his chest. "But I need to go. And you need to take good care of yourself."

Gabriel blinked, feeling the tears finally dribbling down his cheeks. He swiped at them, bitterly. "Please..._please. _I don't want to be alone anymore."

"You're not gonna be alone forever." Peter tried to force a smile, but his lips only managed to quirk to the side, uncomfortably. _Gabriel had always loved those lips...but he had never managed to express that either. It didn't matter now. There was nothing left to be said. _"You're...an _amazing_ person..." Peter pressed his lips together, tightly. He took a hand to his own eyes, giving another emotional snort. "And you're gonna be okay."

Gabriel let out a low moan, burying his face further into his hands. _He could let all the tears he wanted fall in here. He could choke on his sobs without being seen. He could let his heart throb with excruciating pain. He could let the rain drown him slowly. _"I love you so much, Peter. I'm sorry I didn't say it more." He glanced back up into Peter's eyes..._beautiful, sweet Peter. Even now...even now he was gentle. Even now he tried to be soft and loving. _"I don't want you to leave me. You don't have to forgive me...you don't even have to love me back..."

_But there was nothing left to be said._

"Please, Gabriel." Peter murmured, trying to reach out to touch Gabriel's quaking shoulders..._and Gabriel felt something warm surge out of his body and flow into Peter's...something that was always so riveting about Peter's touch. _It lasted all too briefly before Peter allowed his hand to fall limply to his side. He closed his eyes, turning his head away as he softly murmured, "Goodbye."

"I'll never stop loving you." Gabriel hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes and hands still tightly clenched..._because if he let anything in, he would surely die of grief. _"And I'll never find anyone else. When I look into your eyes...I know. I know that you are the one...my sweetest salvation. And even if I'm alone..." Gabriel shook his head, his voice almost lost to him. "It'll always be you."

He didn't expect Peter to respond to him..._after all, there was nothing left to be said. And he had always known that someday the happiness...and the love...would be stolen away from him. But not because Fate despised him...or God was still punishing him...or Angela or Claire or anyone else was out to get him._

_No, it went away because although Gabriel had always thought it was Peter that he could never understand...it was actually himself. He was the broken timepiece. He was the clock that he was unable to fix. He was broken...and Peter needed someone who was whole._

"I love you, Gabriel." Peter whispered, and Gabriel felt the softest of kisses whisper up against his rain-soaked forehead..._Peter's lips were wet from the rain...but they were still so warm...still so sweet. And Gabriel hoped his forehead would burn forever upon the mark where the angel had scorched him. _"Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

Gabriel nodded quickly..._hoping that by granting Peter's last wish, the young man might look back upon him fondly. He felt Peter slip away from him...and Gabriel knew that if you held onto something too tightly it might break beyond repair...and so he loosened his grip...and he allowed the warmth to leave...and for the cold loneliness to seep back in._

Gabriel's eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of Peter one last time. The young man was disappearing into the nighttime rain. He was barely visible but Gabriel could still recognize the way he carried himself..._the way his head was hung in grief..._the way his beautiful, dark brown hair clung to his handsome face.

_And Gabriel was certain he could've cursed the world. He could've shaken his fist at the Lord for having forsaken him again. He could've abandoned himself to the torrent waves of pain that were beginning to be released and crash upon the shores of his consciousness._

_But he promised Peter he would take care of himself. And so instead, he simply forced a pained smile to grace his full lips...simply blinked through the tears and the rain..._

_How lucky he was to have loved someone who was so hard to say goodbye to._


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

_Nathan used an old rag to wipe the pooling circles of blood off of the disappearing holes in his palms. He clenched his fist tightly as he gave a powerful sigh, "I'm tired, Pete."_

_Tired of fighting and always losing in the end. Tired of trying to remember that Peter was his brother...and that Nathan __loved__ him. Nathan pursed his lips together tightly, still feeling the shockwaves of hatred that were washing over him and sweeping him away like a deadly riptide. Nathan never wanted to experience these feelings...not towards Peter. Never towards him._

"_Yeah, I know." Peter sniffed, wiping a stream of blood from his nose. __Blood that, inadvertently, Nathan had drawn out of Peter with this body...this sick and terrible form. _

_Nathan watched Peter closely, noting his younger brother's proof of exhaustion in the way the young man's broad shoulders were hunched over, his breathing still belabored from the subsiding adrenaline and the returning sting of his injuries._

_But Pete didn't understand. Nathan wasn't just physically exhausted any longer. There was now a mental...and spiritual...drain that was unrelenting and unforgiving as it burned against Nathan's willpower like some dark flame. And the feeling only continued to grow as if Sylar was now pouring an accelerant on their mental inferno in a desperate attempt to burn Nathan's consciousness out once and for all._

"_No, I mean I'm tired." Nathan explained, placing his hands on his legs as he turned to face his little brother. "I've been trying to get out, fight my way, and I don't think I can do it anymore. I don't think I can hang on."_

_Peter watched him with intent, hazel eyes...his soft, innocent face darkening with concern. "Sure you can." He finally insisted, his voice hushed and raspy._

_The two brothers locked eyes...__and so much emotion was present in that one look. Blind loyalty... billowing affection...a strong determination to always fight tooth-and-nail if it meant saving the other._

_Peter's eyes clouded sorrowfully as he finally spoke through the harsh silence, "You know what? Let's go get some air. I know just the place."_

_Peter held out his hand for Nathan to take. Without even looking Peter in the eye, Nathan took his brother's hand wearily and allowed himself to be pulled up onto his feet. Nathan felt Peter place a comforting hand to his back to guide him out of the hospital's construction zone._

_Once they reached the top of the hospital building, Peter glanced over his shoulder at Nathan, knowingly. __Nathan knew that look, it was the look that Pete always gave when he wanted to fly._

_Before Nathan could respond, Peter lifted up into the air. Nathan wasn't exactly certain where his brother was flying off to, but old memories and a lifelong knowledge of Peter's sentimental nature gave him an idea. Nathan followed Peter deep into the night; a rush of cold air streaming across his face...__and something told him that this would be the last time the two brothers would fly together. Nathan remembered Peter up in the small airplanes that Nathan would fly...he remembered Peter looking out the window with such enthusiastic wonder...the younger man always appreciating the beauty of the world below...and Nathan couldn't help but agree with him. Everything seemed simpler in the sky...everything seemed gentler...from that perspective, the world was indeed a wonderful place._

_Nathan felt tears prick at his eyes...__but he didn't let them fall. He hadn't cried since he was a very small child...neither his father nor mother allowed him that. He watched Peter fly...knowing his little brother would continue on and on towards the horizon...knowing that Nathan himself could no longer follow._

_They finally stopped, arriving at the old Deveaux Mansion. The Deveaux's were an old family friend of their mother, and Peter had received his first job as a nurse working hospice care for Mr. Deveaux. However, Nathan knew that wasn't the memory that Peter was seeking tonight._

"_Remember last time we were up here?" Peter asked, looking over at Nathan expectantly._

"_Yeah." Nathan replied, mirroring the look in his brother's eyes. "Yeah, I do."_

_Before he had fully discovered his power, Peter had once attempted to fly, leaping from this very building with only faith as his wings. But his faith was misplaced, and he had instead tumbled to his death, his only salvation being Nathan's awaiting arms. Nathan's secret of flight had been revealed, but he had been unwilling to admit it...his reasoning why now seeming weak and hazy. But Peter had confronted him again on this very rooftop...angrily seeking answers in the stubborn way that only Peter could...and Nathan felt a surge of warmth upon recalling this memory. __**Peter had been furiously irritating at the time...**__but Nathan could only look back on his brother's actions with a deep sense of endearment now. _

_And it was the very first time that Peter ever flew...his feet barely hovering off of the ground. The knowledge that __**he**__ could fly...and that __**his brother**__ could fly...filled Peter with such innocent excitement. But Nathan had not been excited...all he could think of was how his congressional campaign was put in jeopardy by these actions.__ Nathan felt some of the warmth he had been experiencing slowly slip away from him. __ And what did any of that matter now? He should've hugged Peter back with just as much wonder and happiness. God, Nathan didn't want to dwell on these things any longer...so many lost moments...so many memories always tinged with a "should've"._

_But Peter had asked him a question. And Nathan knew he couldn't disappoint, needing to give Peter an answer that the young man had come to expect from his older brother._

_Peter gave a small smile when Nathan responded, a familiar tone falling into the older man's voice. __The gentle teasing...treating Pete as if he were eternally the little kid that needed his big brother's guidance._

"_You were standing on that edge right there like an idiot." Nathan replied, and Peter gave a soft laugh in response. Nathan felt another wave of sorrow hit him. __Pete had clearly come here in order to recapture the old times...the more innocent times. __"Asking me about Dad's depression. Asking me if I could fly."_

_Peter's gentle smile fell, a more serious look glancing across his sharp features. "Remember what you said?"_

_Nathan paused for a moment, the question catching him off guard. __The lies...the deceptions...Nathan had followed the path set before him without question, and in turn, he had hurt some of the people closest to him. But sometimes...sometimes lies are only used in order to protect the people we love the most..._

"_I said we could both fly." Nathan replied, gently._ _So many moments tinged with "should've"._

_Peter's lips quirked to the side as he looked right through Nathan's pretense...__as Peter always seemed to be able to do. __ "Before that."_

_Nathan sighed, his thoughts intermixing bitterly with more surging memories...__of standing on a rooftop ledge with Peter...memories of Peter looking so brave, so heroic...remembering a time when Peter had grabbed Nathan by the shoulders and had flung them both to their deaths on the hard concrete below...no one had flown that night..._

_No, no! Those weren't Nathan's memories!_

"_You denied it." Peter concluded, simply._

_Nathan gave a small shrug, uncomfortable with the sudden voracious clarity in which one of Sylar's memories had overtaken him. "It was an election year." __Memories were flooding him relentlessly now. Memories of broken promises, of scattered dreams, of tarnished good intentions. But whether they belonged to Nathan or Sylar, Nathan was growing too weary to decipher. __"Denial was the go to."_

_Nathan walked to the edge of the rooftop; Peter's comforting grip finding its way to his weary shoulders. __Nathan fought the urge to collapse into Peter's arms, he was so weak and shattered. But he knew that he had to be strong...he had always wanted to be the strong one of the two. But now, faced with his own mortality, he wondered how much he ever had been. After all, there had been so many moments of weaknesses since he and Peter had embraced on this rooftop over three years ago...and most of them had been had by Nathan._

"_It seems like a million years ago, huh?" Nathan murmured, softly. "A lifetime."_

"_We made it through it." Peter insisted, determinedly, gazing into his brother's face. The young man looked so sincere...so hopeful...that Nathan could do nothing but force a small, uncertain smile and nod in return._

_Peter continued, bolstered by Nathan's acceptance of his words. "Together. Made it through all the craziness. You and me." Peter's face was set in its conviction, his jaw tightening with desperate certainty. "We can make it through anything."_

_Anything...they could survive a home life that at times seemed to be pulling them in opposite directions...they could survive these powers overwhelming them in every aspect of their lives...they could even survive being separated because in the end they knew that they would always find each other again... _

_Nathan gave a sad smile. Those memories could've been his...or they could've belonged to the blood-lusting monster in his mind...it didn't seem to be as obvious to him which was which any longer. He glanced back up at Peter's softening eyes...__they were wide with a gentle ferventness; with a deep desire for Nathan to approve and agree with his words._

"_Even death?" Nathan finally settled on saying, trying to choke back another relentless onslaught of tangled memories...__feelings of intense loneliness...isolation...self-hatred..._

_Peter gave a small shake of his head. "Why not?" He demanded, sadly._

_Nathan shrugged, a soft understanding beginning to settle within him. __Pete was the dreamer...but Nathan was the realist. And it seemed that their relationship would remain unchanged until the end. __"Because this isn't me? It's not my body. Because..." He took a deep breath, knowing that Peter had to come to accept the truth that Nathan himself had known since Thanksgiving night. "Because it's Sylar's..." Nathan finished, looking away in frustration._

_Peter's voice resounded forcefully in Nathan's ears. "No, it is you, Nathan. I'm looking at __you__."_

"_You're looking at an illusion." Nathan retorted, trying to make the words simple and strong...__even as they tore at his insides...even as he wanted to breakdown and let all of his emotions pour out of him in one final act of hopeless desperation._

"_No, it's you." Peter hissed, stubbornly._

_**Gabriel Gray...the watchmaker's son...the killer...is that all he had ever amounted to in the end...nothing more than a murderer...nothing more than a tortured mind overrun with powers. But here he was...once more standing on the edge of eternity with Peter Petrelli. Oh, how he longed to be stained in Peter's blood up to his elbows...skilled fingers finally allowed to tear into the one brain he had so long desired to know...**_

_Nathan felt his eyes slip shut in overwhelming pain and agitation. __Sylar's memories...Sylar's emotions...they were bubbling up to the surface...and they were beginning to be brighter and clearer than his own had been. _

"_I need you to keep fighting in there, okay?" Peter demanded, the familiarity of his voice bringing Nathan back. __There was a hint of begging seeping into the young man's tone that had been absent only moments ago._

_Nathan shook his head slowly. "I can't."_

_Peter jerked backwards, as if he had just gotten slapped. Nathan watched him closely, his heart aching at the anguish that was now etched across Peter's face. __He didn't want to see Peter in pain anymore__. Oh, if only he could say something that would help take Peter's hurt away...__Nathan had always known the words before...when Peter had experienced his first heartbreak...when Izzie, the family dog, had died...even when they had originally thought their father to be dead and Peter had lamented over the broken state they had left their relationship..._

_But Nathan didn't know what to say any more. Because he couldn't lie to Peter this time...__not even to protect him__. No, it was time for Nathan to lay everything bare...__to give Peter the respect and dignity of knowing the truth, no matter how painful it would be._

"_He's killing me." Nathan hissed, a slow, grinding pain beginning to work its way up into his brain. "And I can't hold on anymore, Pete."_

_Peter redoubled his grip on Nathan...as if the younger man was now holding both of them up with his embrace. "Yes, you can, Nathan." He insisted, drawing his face closer to his brother's with an intent urgency. "That's...that's why you found me." Peter jumped on the hopeful thought, clinging to it for dear life. "That's why you came and found __me__."_

_**Yes, it's why he always found Peter. Because he wanted to know all of Peter's precious secrets...because he wanted to hoard everything that made Peter so special as his own. Sylar wanted to take, take, take from Peter...Peter, man who was so loving and giving. But although Peter always seemed to give, give, give to everyone...Sylar seemed to be his only exception.**_

_**And because Peter had nothing to give him, Sylar would simply be content to beat the young man to death in Times Square...somewhere the whole world could watch as their Superman fell back down to earth. Peter's vanquish would appear on every TV screen in the city...his eyes glassing over as Sylar continued to bludgeon him to a bloody pulp...the hero humiliated and buried...**_

_**And then...Sylar would never have to think of Peter again. Because for the last three years...it had always been Peter...and Sylar didn't know how much more his sanity could take.**_

_Sylar took all of Peter in...the young man still standing before him just as he had at their first fateful meeting. Peter had changed since then...he was different now...more confident, more sure of himself...he was __stronger__.____And how had Sylar changed in the same amount of time? Was he any stronger...any more powerful...any surer of himself? God, he hated Peter so much...hate, hate, hate...so much hate was coursing through his soul that he was__** practically choking on it...**_

"_I found you because I wanted to crucify you in Times Square." He growled, bitterly._

_But Peter was not deterred. __He is not the same naïve hero from the homecoming game...he is no longer scared of monsters that lurk in the shadows__. Peter simply grabbed onto Sylar and drew him closer, a loving insistence punctuating his every syllable. "Nathan, that is not __you__."_

_Peter's voice was once more Nathan's salvation...he snapped awake as if he had merely been slipping off into a light daydream. __No, that hadn't been Nathan at all. That was Sylar...and he was winning. God, he was winning with each and every passing moment. He was real...he was alive...and Nathan was nothing more than a bundle of memories and emotions that were growing more and more faint with each passing tick of a clock. _

_Nathan shut his eyes, deeply upset and frustrated. He let out a dark groan, shaking his head until he doubled forward, hanging onto the rooftop's ledge with trembling hands. __Sylar was fighting for control...and instead of Sylar and Nathan once more becoming a strange amalgamation of thoughts and memories they were now beginning to vividly separate. Sylar was strong and vibrant...and Nathan was small and cold. It acutely felt as if Nathan's life were suddenly a very wonderful dream that was ending all too soon...when it grows fainter and fainter and no matter how tightly you shut your eyes and try to call it back you cannot..._

_Peter's words once more resounded in the other man's ears. __"Nathan, that is not you."_

"_That's what I'm trying to tell you." Nathan gasped, as Peter lunged forward to hang onto him. Nathan jerked back up and grabbed onto Peter as if the young man were his only life saver in a tumultuous storm. __**Peter was pressed against the wall...unable to move...chest rising and falling heavily...eyes wide and dark ...he should've killed him then...he should've taken a knife and drove it into the back of his skull...he should've never given Peter the opportunity to overwhelm him...to consume this much of his life. And now he hated Peter so much...god, it even hurt how badly he hated Peter. This wasn't the same hatred that he had experienced before...that hot, churning that had whispered through his consciousness...no, this was something very raw and real that was trembling in him now. And so it was time to say goodbye to Nathan...and with him, Peter. Because Peter...Peter was the only one that Sylar had ever hated so passionately...**_

_Nathan released a pained cry as Peter hugged him even tighter. "Nathan, stay with me...hey!" Peter begged, the young man's voice now coming out in rough, choked spurts. "Hey, c'mon. I need you to fight it."_

_Nathan buried his face into Peter's shoulder, a dark ache pressing firmly against his chest. It felt as if his heart was about to explode, it was pounding so ferociously and erratically. __Sylar was killing him...slowly but thoroughly killing him..._

"_I need you to fight it, Nathan." Peter reiterated, pressing the side of his face into his older brother's. He pressed his hand to the back of Nathan's head, understanding the importance of their connection in the moment. _

"_Please." Peter breathed out, looking up to the sky as he did so. __And that 'please' was meant to beseech the Lord as much as it was meant for Nathan's ears. __"C'mon."_

_Nathan felt a sharp sting as the tears he had been holding back finally slipped down his cheeks. __It was the first time he had cried in almost thirty years. But he didn't care...only Peter was here with him now...and Peter never judged him. Nathan choked on the pit that had settled in his throat...he couldn't stand dying while images of Sylar's insane reasoning and burning hatred for Peter consumed Nathan's fading spirit. No, Nathan was determined to remember that which was __**his **__in his final moments__**. **__Nathan knew it would kill him...it would kill him to place so much energy into one final surge of his own consciousness...it would cause the final fabric of his fading life to tear in half. But he was to die anyway...and so he wished to do so bravely, with the strength that Peter had always seemed to see in him._

_He focused on the one constant, beautiful thing that he had experienced throughout a lifetime of mistakes and regret...his relationship with his brother. He loved Peter...oh, he loved Peter so much...and that thought would be his dying salvation tonight._

_Nathan slowly lifted himself away from Peter's grasp as they simultaneously moved to press their hands to each other's cheeks...__they always seemed to anticipate the others actions. __ Peter tried to force a smile, but his lips quickly trembled and faltered._

_Nathan watched Peter closely...__remembering holding Peter's hand as he had taught his little brother how to walk...and it was finally time to let go and allow Peter to take those first steps on his own. _

"_I'm sorry, Pete." Nathan whispered, and he had never been more apologetic in his life. __He was sorry for everything...not only for what he was about to do...but for every time he had ever told Peter a lie... every time he had caused Peter hurt or sadness...every time he hadn't been there when his brother had needed him...he was so sorry for all of it._

_But even as he apologized, a realization struck him with such ardent certainty...that he had already been forgiven long ago. And that's why he loved Peter so much...Peter didn't know how __**not**__ to forgive. Nathan smiled inwardly, despite himself._

_With this final sense of peace, Nathan threw himself off of the ledge of the building...__and although he knew he could've flown...there was an overwhelming sense that it was time to come back down to earth...to stop running away from the world and hiding up in the sky. It was time to come home._

"_Nathan!" Peter cried out, rushing over and grabbing onto Nathan's arm. Nathan felt his descent halted as he hung on the precipice of eternity._

"_Pull yourself up, Nathan." Peter demanded, his face red and strained as he used both his hands to frantically grasp onto his brother's arm._

"_Let me go, Pete." Nathan replied, a calmness flooding him. __He was so close to discovering something beautiful...something so far away from the tarnished reality he had always known. There was something pure and real waiting for him...just around the corner...and it was his time to accept that. And Pete...his little brother needed to realize that it was always him. Peter was the one who was meant to be the world's savior. It was all so clear to Nathan now...and he couldn't help feel the sense of relief and understanding that settled into him._

"_I can't do that." Peter hissed, tears rushing into his bright, hazel eyes._

"_You need to accept that I'm gone." Nathan insisted, softly. __He wanted to soothe Peter's emotions...to be the steady sieve that Peter could always pour all of his unmanageable and powerful feelings into. And he wanted Peter to be so happy...so wonderfully happy...after all, he deserved nothing less..._

"_I need you to help me, now pull yourself up!" Peter cried, the tears unapologetically spilling down his reddened cheeks. He gave a rough snort through his nose, blinking through his glazing vision, trying to hang onto something that was no longer his to hold onto._

_I need you to help me. Peter had always thought that he needed Nathan...but Peter was a man now...and stronger and braver than Nathan could have ever imagined._

_Peter's hand gave a sudden slip and Nathan felt himself fall a little further...__a little closer to home.__ Peter struggled to grab onto Nathan with both hands again, but he could no longer reach...__Nathan was almost no longer of this world...no longer able to be physically held or touched..._

_Nathan gazed up into his brother's trembling, sweat-soaked features...still seeing the soft, innocent spirit that Nathan had known for Peter's entire life. But there was now something else that resided within Peter too...__an unassuming, gentle confidence. Peter had truly come into his own...he had discovered the part of himself that he had been seeking for so long. And Nathan was so...so tremendously proud of him._

"_You're going to have to carry on for the both of us, Pete." Nathan explained, giving a small and comforting nod. "Okay? You tell Mom I love her." __For indeed, he knew that he loved his mother with every inch of his being. While it was true that he had always been drawn towards his father...towards power...it was his mother who was truly the strong one. She had been willing to sacrifice everything to save his life...and he was no longer angry at the decisions she had made...knowing for the first time the full extent in which they were dictated by a strong but often unspoken devotion that she had held for him._

"_You take care of Claire." __His beautiful, brave daughter Claire. The girl who had taught him to seize the moment, because one never knew when such time would slip away and be lost forever. The girl who had made him into the hero he never thought he could be. _

_Nathan turned his words back towards the one man who had always known exactly who he was...both the good and the bad...Peter had accepted and loved it all. "You fight the good fight. You've always been everything that's good in the world, Pete."_

_Oh...he loved Peter so much. His brother the hero...the gentle, kind, golden-hearted hero...the hero the world had always needed...the hero Peter had always been inside...and now it was finally time for Peter to show the world what Nathan had always known._

"_Nathan." Peter gasped, the tears still pouring down his face...__but his words were now punctuated by a pained understanding. He would hurt...but that was a good thing. The grieving was necessary now...and as much as Nathan never wanted to see Peter cry...these tears were healthy. They were tears of goodbye...they were tears of acceptance._

"_And I got a feeling the world ain't seen nothin' yet." Nathan smiled, his pride and love seeping into his every word...into his very last breath._

"_I can't do this without you." Peter insisted, knowing the moment was imminent...that it was inevitable...__the moment when he finally needed to let go._

"_You can do anything, Pete." Nathan replied, fighting to blink away his own glassy eyes and to take in every last second he had to look up at Peter. __Everything between them was healed...all grievances forgiven...all betrayals rendered meaningless...after all, in the end they were side-by-side, united in loyalty and love. Nathan's only regret now was that he wouldn't be around to see all of the great things that Peter was certain to accomplish. _

_He would be a hero, of course...but someday he would also be a dedicated, loving husband...and a caring father who was always present...and Nathan felt a bittersweet happiness for his brother at these prospects._

"_Anything." Nathan gave another encouraging nod. "Remember that."_

_Peter's intense gaze locked upon their entwined fingers...before finding Nathan once more. Tears clouded Peter's vision, his lips pressed together firmly...knowing what needed to happen but still willing it to not be true._

_But it wasn't the end. No, it was just the beginning...the beginning of something wonderful. For both Nathan and Peter...and neither man could fight their destiny any longer._

_Nathan smiled brightly. "I love you." He breathed out, his voice catching in his throat. __He knew how painful this would be for Peter...and he wanted to be there for him...he wanted to hold him...to comfort him. But even if Nathan could no longer reach out and touch Peter...to embrace him, to physically speak with him...he knew their love would live on. He knew that those three, simple words could convey a powerful truth that Peter could then hang onto for the rest of his life if ever he needed the strength...the gentle reminder._

"_Nathan?" Peter whispered, but his words were simply a mere question of whether now was the time...rather than an order that it not be. Peter gave another hard sniff, the tears flowing freely down his ruddy cheeks...__and Peter was so strong, so brave that of course he knew what he had to do. And he faced it as he always did...with unwavering heroism._

"_Ah, I love you, Nathan." Peter finally relented...__and although Nathan always knew that Peter loved him...although he had never doubted for a second those words...it was so important that they speak them now. _

_For indeed, these were the last three words they would ever say to each other and they were the only words that encapsulated every minute of their twenty-nine years spent together._

_Nathan felt Peter's warm touch slip away from his wrist...and gravity had finally caught up with Superman...his arms outstretched around him...as if he were flying even now as he fell._

_He kept his gaze firmly planted on Peter...__he loved him so much__...even as he felt the twisted, tortured consciousness of Sylar greedily scramble to take his place._

_Sylar is hungrily consuming every part of his mind...devouring Nathan in a final, madcap grab for complete control of the shared body...inhaling the remnants of Nathan's memories even as the consciousness of Nathan becomes more distant and dark..._

_And for the first time, Nathan is fully aware of exactly who this man called Sylar is...the monster in the shadows...the man who has tormented his family for three, tumultuous years._

_He is nothing more than a scared little boy. A lonely, confused boy who only wants to be loved. He had wanted love from the Petrellis...had wanted love from Angela...had...had wanted love...from Peter. Nathan could see it all with startling clarity now...like a scorned little child, Gabriel had yelled 'hate' when he had only ever meant 'love.' But Gabriel didn't know what love was. Gabriel only knew how to tear things apart...only knew how to break things...only knew how to break himself._

_And Nathan decided that he didn't hate Gabriel any longer. No, he could only manage to faintly pity him now...lonely, scared, tortured little boy. It was sad really...Nathan was at complete peace with himself even as he faded away into the darkness...but Gabriel was more confused and broken than ever even as he emerged with full-awareness..._

_No, Nathan could no longer hate him._

_But Gabriel also no longer mattered. He had broken himself; he had torn his own world asunder. And so Nathan directed his last thoughts to Peter...Peter's familiar face filling his vision...he loved Peter so much...even as he faded he was left with that beautiful reality...he was so lucky...so lucky to have known that kind of love in his life..._

_**He felt a dark smile split his face...Nathan was truly gone...dead and vanquished...and Sylar had won at long last. He watched as Peter's beautiful features widened in shock and horror...and Sylar knew that the expression was meant solely for his reappearance.**_

_Sylar felt his body slam into a car, his bones jolting against the cold, harsh metal...but he barely noticed the pain or the impact. He was too busy watching Peter's ever-expressive face...__the handsome young man jerk backwards, his hands coming up as if to protect himself from the terrible sight of Sylar taking his brother's place...tears left untouched to stain those soft, flushed cheeks._

_Sylar rose to his feet, fixing his hair as he did so_. _ He knew that Peter was still watching him closely...expecting his cruelty...expecting his complete lack of empathy...awaiting his spite._

_And, of course, Sylar hated to ever disappoint Peter. He gave Peter a slight wave of his hand...a mocking salute goodbye. Sylar knew that it was time to leave...__just as Nathan had known__...but even as his feet took him away...__took him away from this horrible, confusing place...__something made him still keep his gaze locked on Peter's sweet face._

_Soft, flushed features...hair falling into his glassy, hazel eyes...lips that trembled...imperfectly perfect lips...god, if only...if only he could kiss away Peter's tears..._

_Sylar snapped his eyes away at the last minute as he turned to leave. That was the last time he would ever see Peter, he promised himself. It was finally over...and it was time to let go._

_But Nathan's parting memory had left a lingering pain in his heart...and Sylar knew that he couldn't continue to lie to himself any longer...he finally had to admit what was now so glaringly apparent in his every recollection of every hateful, little moment he had ever spent with Peter...__**fine, yes...he loved Peter...he loved Peter but he could never grapple with such an emotion...it was so frightening...so real in a world that he came to fear was nothing but pretend...and if he ever said those three, scary words out loud he might just break into a thousand pieces, so fragile was everything he had once held as truth...**_

_And something died inside of Sylar that night...because as much as he insisted he did __not __care...as much as he told himself he didn't have empathy...something kept haunting him about Peter's precious, tear-stained face...__and his words of 'I love you' towards Nathan...and how lost he looked now__. And suddenly, Sylar wasn't so sure he ever wanted to be the one responsible for making someone look that way again. _


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**Author's Note: Thank you SO much to everyone for all of the reviews, favorites, alerts, views, etc. Keep letting me know what you think! Also, sorry it took so long to update this time! But you guys keep me inspired and I appreciate everyone who has been reading this SO much :)**

The first rays of the morning sun pierced through the drapes, shrouding Peter in its soft pink and orange glow. Peter slowly lifted his head from where it had rested in his hands, his neck and back feeling a stiff, dull ache from their prolonged craned position. _It was the dawning of a new day...and it was also Nathan's birthday._

The realization struck Peter as being completely surreal; his weariness fogging his mind as if someone had pulled a heavy curtain over it. He hadn't slept at all since he and Gabriel had gone their separate ways during the late hours of the previous night. He hadn't even tried, knowing that he needed to allow himself the time to heal..._or to just hurt._

He rubbed his forehead and gave a heavy sigh, the memories of last night continuing to play through his mind's eye as if he had them on a continual cycle. He had turned and walked away from Gabriel first, unable to stay a minute more by the other man's side..._unable to gaze into his beautiful, dark brown eyes, painted with desperation and longing..._and still be certain that he would make the right decision.

_Peter had pushed through the torrents of rain...had pushed through the heartache...until he entered his mother's apartment. He found her and Claire watching him carefully, as if he were somehow in a different world that they could no longer reach. He found quite acutely that he could no longer meet their eyes, his glassy gaze falling uncomfortably to his shoes instead._

_He asked his mother if she was alright...and after she had assured him that she was quite unhurt, he immediately asked if he could stay the night in one of her apartment's spare bedrooms. She hesitated for only a moment, her soft eyes painted with concern for him, but she eventually relented, giving him a small, consenting nod. Before someone could say anything else, he hurried past his mother...had hurried past Claire and her worried, pained gaze...and had shut the bedroom door quickly behind him. _

_The instant he was alone, something that had been barely hanging together snapped within him. He immediately sank down onto the ice, cold floor...the back of his head pressing up against the door in trembling agony. He had only been brave for Gabriel...because he knew that Gabriel couldn't have let go in a healthy manner unless Peter had first kept his own tumultuous emotions under control._

_But now Gabriel was gone...__he was gone forever__...and Peter was completely alone once more. And so began his nighttime vigil...his spiral into helpless despair...his head fell into his cold, rain-slicked hands as he began to cry softly. He felt his wet hair cling to his trembling face as his shoulders gave a rough shudder. Hours past...his tears dried up and he began to pace the floor silently...he pressed his forehead against the icy glass of the window...he gave a choked laugh whenever he remembered how sincere and endearing Gabriel could be...he agonized over their every fight, wondering why so many of them had been allowed to burn out of control...he placed his face firmly against the palm of his hand...hunched over and feeling unbearably empty and cold...just waiting for the sun to come back._

Peter rubbed his forehead again...it still felt cool and clammy to the touch, as if all the warmth had somehow been sucked out of his body. His heart was quite literally aching inside of his chest with every slow, heavy beat it took. And while it was true that his heart had been broken so many times before..._he was certain that this would be the last, the time in which it couldn't mend again. Gabriel had been different...Gabriel had always been different, hadn't he?_

Peter gave a heavy sigh, blinking blearily up at the light that was beginning to shine brighter and more brilliant into the room...touching all of the shadows until they disappeared...bringing newness and warmth to everything except himself. Yes, Gabriel had always been different. Peter had loved him more fiercely and passionately than he had ever loved before..._and so he had also fought with him with an equally unmatched intensity. And in that laid the problem. Loving someone meant caring about them enough to never hurt them physically...to try your best to never intentionally tear them down emotionally. It meant being able to say 'I love you' and 'I forgive you' and not worry that speaking such words would give the other all of the power within the relationship. The power to hurt you, the power to destroy you...there hadn't been enough trust between them for those concerns to be allayed._

Although, Gabriel had never exactly made it easy to trust. Every time Peter tried to close the distance between them, had tried to tear down the other man's walls, he was always welcomed by some half-truth regarding Gabriel's feelings...some sarcastic retort...or a hurtful dig meant to put Peter down before the young man could notice any of Gabriel's insecurities.

_And not that Peter had exactly made it easy either. Peter had been determined to withhold forgiveness as well as punish Gabriel for the rest of their lives. Every Sunday they went to Nathan's grave together...and yet neither felt the healing that those times should have brought them. For Gabriel knew that he wasn't to talk...that he wasn't to add his own remorse or comfort...he was just meant to stand there and to hurt...to hurt just like Peter always did._

Peter pressed his wrist to his lips, feeling another suffocating onslaught of the slow, burning ache that pushed roughly against his chest. _Oh, Gabriel...he loved him so much. Why was it that the right thing always hurt so damn bad? But how could they have stayed together...after everything that Gabriel had told Peter? The fact that Gabriel always loved Peter...loved him because he was good and because Gabriel was bad...and somehow Gabriel had concluded that being loved by someone good would make your soul the same by default. But that wasn't love...that wasn't the love that Peter had felt for Gabriel all this time._

Peter gave a sad smile, remembering the reasons why _he _had come to love Gabriel..._he was a challenging, brilliant man with powerful emotions. He needed someone to save him...and in return he promised to shower that person with deep affection and blind loyalty. He just needed a hero...and his heart would be theirs to keep forever. No more loneliness...no more heartbreak...Peter had finally found the one he had been seeking all his life. Someone who could keep him grounded with their pragmatic temperament...someone who could keep his life exciting with their unpredictable nature...someone who could hold onto him late at night and whisper in his ear how they would be abhorred to ever let go. Someone who wanted to cultivate something real with him...someone who would raise children with him and form a family unit...someone to grow old with as they fell even more in love together._

And yet, here Peter was now, his hands trembling against his cool forehead, completely alone once more. _It hurt to breathe...it hurt to think...it hurt to move._ Peter recognized all of these feelings..._he knew the sensation of heartbreak. And it didn't matter if you were the one breaking up with someone or the one blindsided...tearing apart something that had once been so solidified always hurt like hell. _But even though his heartache was not an entirely new sensation..._it had never hurt quite this much before. No, this was new...this was losing the person that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. This was saying goodbye to the lover who was supposed to be the one that erased everyone who had ever come before._

Peter released a soft, moan..._god, if only he could just fall asleep. All this thinking, hoping, wishing, remembering...all of them tinged with too many 'should'ves.' _But letting go of Gabriel had been the right thing to do in the end..._Gabriel deserved to find someone he truly loved, someone who didn't force him to endure the reiteration of his past sins eternally. Gabriel needed to accept the fact that he was no longer that cruel monster...whether Peter was around him or not. _Gabriel shouldn't stay with Peter just because he thought that their shared, destructive path meant that they _should_ be together. Or that they could continue to be destructive to one another..._and that it was all just love in the end, right?_

At first glance, it seemed incomprehensible to Peter that Gabriel had thought he loved him back then..._back in the Sylar years_...but the more Peter thought about it, the more he could at least appreciate where the man was coming from. When he and Gabriel had accepted themselves to be brothers, Peter had felt a small endearment towards the other man..._family and loyalty were often intertwined emotions for Peter. _But it was also more than that..._Peter had experienced the hunger. He had willingly absorbed Gabriel's power, his intentions of using it always pure and good...just like Gabriel's had certainly once been. But the power was cruel and demanding...and it throbbed incessantly unless answered. It made it so enticing to submit to its dark will...to your own angry impulses because the power made it that much easier...to pave your own road to hell with your previous good intentions._

And Gabriel had saved his life too, sending Peter out a window in an attempt to save him from the cold-hearted intent of his father..._and later Gabriel had tried to take away Peter's guilt and horror of having killed his own father by thrusting the bullet into the man's skull himself, although both knew that it was Peter who had pulled the trigger._

These moments all came before the wall...and Peter had indeed been aware of them as poignant at the time. He hadn't hated Sylar at all during these moments..._on the contrary, there was something small and uncomfortable in the realization that he just as easily could have __been__ Sylar...had he not known such strong, family love...had he not been so fortunate during his formative years...had he not had Nathan in his life._

Peter gave a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes with a defeated weariness. _Nathan. It always came back to Nathan's death in the end. That was when all of Peter's budding empathy for Sylar had ceased to exist...when the deep, vibrating hatred had roared awake within him to take its place instead. _Peter gave his head a small shake. _To think that Gabriel had talked about loving Peter then was still too awful to try and grapple with. If Gabriel thought that you could love someone while simultaneously ripping their heart to pieces...then what did love actually mean to him?_

Yes, it was the right thing to let Gabriel go. It would've been wrong to hang onto a relationship in which the pain always seemed to shroud the deep affection in a haze of suffocating smoke..._and it was wrong to continue to hurt each other. Love should never be about needing to hurt someone before they could succeed in hurting you._

And so it had been time to graciously go their separate ways in the hopes that they would eventually find someone better suited for each other. And while that all sounded perfectly rational and mature in his head, Peter couldn't help but agree with the underlying admittance in his heart that he would never find love again. He knew that his scarred heart had been torn open to bleed out once and for all and that soon it would be as cold and lifeless as the rest of him now felt..._indeed, it had no more love to give to anyone._

Peter wrapped his arms tightly around his broad chest, as if protecting every beat from further hemorrhaging. He knew the gesture was hollow, however..._indeed, he reiterated in his mind, his heart had no more love to give to anyone...it was quite cold and unresponsive after a night of drowning loss._

_Peter gave a faint smile as he could practically hear Nathan refuting this, insisting instead that love __always__ came around again and more strongly than before._

"Not this time, brother." Peter breathed out, as if Nathan were still sitting right by his side, being the voice of reason throughout his struggles. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease out some of its soreness. "Nah, this time it was different."

A soft knock resounded from the outside of Peter's bedroom door, starling the young man from his deeply introspective thoughts. Peter snapped is head towards the intruding noise, still unwilling to let the rest of the world into his private wall of solitude. He was still in so much agony..._and he didn't know how to hide that fact from his mother or Claire...he wasn't even sure if he wanted to anymore._

The knock sounded again, and so Peter was forced to beckon them inside. The door peaked open just a crack, the glint of raven hair and concerned hazel eyes just visible behind its barrier. It was Angela, and Peter felt a surge of dread well up in his throat as he gave a heavy swallow. _Maybe he disgusted her now...maybe she was deeply disappointed in him...but he couldn't hear any of it in the moment. He had __loved__ Gabriel and he couldn't bear to hear anyone tell him that what he had experienced had somehow been wrong._

"Peter." His mother spoke in a hushed whisper, and for a moment Peter felt as if she were talking to a five-year-old version of himself. "Peter, are you okay?"

"What is it, Ma?" Peter asked, pushing the leaden words out of his chest. His voice sounded strangely dead and hollow even in his own ears. It was also cracked and husky..._as if filled to the brim with his suffering._

"We're going to spend time with Nathan now." She explained, simply, and Peter knew that she was referring to visiting his brother's grave. She opened the door a little further, taking a tentative step in. "Do you want to come with us or would you rather go later by yourself?"

Peter gave a small shrug of his shoulders. _He was still angry at her for the part she had played in yesterday's disaster. He knew he shouldn't take out his sorrows and regrets on her, but he found that he couldn't help himself. She knew he loved Gabriel...why had she been so intent to destroy the last thing that had given Peter so much happiness? And while she wasn't the reason that the two men broke up, Peter knew from painful experience that her deceits and manipulations usually served to fan an already inflamed situation. _He cleared his throat, still not ready to meet her eyes. "I'll come with you guys."

Angela hesitated, one of her hands coming up to rest gently on her chest. "Peter..." She began, and Peter felt a small pang of acknowledgement that she truly was trying to reach out to him..._but something dark within him was roaring that it was now a little too late. _Nonetheless, she pressed on, "Peter...I want you to know that we don't have to talk about last night."

_Peter stiffened as he allowed the intent of her words to wash over him. Yes, they could pretend like it all never happened. It would be easier; of course...lies and denial always seeming to be the go-to move in the Petrelli household._

"Never bring it up again, huh?" Peter replied, giving a rough, sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, right, 'cuz that's how we do things in this family. We brush all of our dirty, little secrets under the rug or maybe just shove them back in a closet somewhere with the rest of our skeletons. It's such a great way to live..." Peter gave a mocking squint of his harsh gaze. "...it makes not dealing with things _really_ easy."

Angela pursed her lips together tightly and Peter could see the hurt swimming in her own hardening gaze. The concern she had allowed to seep into her features all but melted away as she drew herself inward once more. "Fine. Would you like to talk about this right now?"

"No." Peter replied, bringing the back of his wrist up to press firmly against his lips once more..._to keep from yelling and crying out, for no other reason than the fact that keeping it all bottled up right now seemed to be driving him completely insane. _"No, Ma, I _don't_ wanna talk about it. Because in the end it doesn't really matter." He glanced up at her, knowing his eyes reflected all of the cold, lifelessness that he felt within. "Is that what you always figured?"

"Did you really love him?" Angela interrupted, abruptly; stepping inside the room as she softly shut the door behind her. "Or did you just feel responsible for him?"

Peter jerked away, taken aback by the frankness of her words. He had imagined them dancing around the heart of the issue forever..._because it would be too horrible to admit the depths that Peter had cared for the cold-hearted killer. _But his mother was not backing down from her blunt question, her arms folding protectively over her chest.

_She was asking him outright and honestly, Peter realized. And she deserved nothing short of an honest answer._

"Both." Peter hissed, the words getting stuck in his tightening throat. _Ah, he was trying but he just couldn't talk about this with her. Not now...maybe not ever_.

Angela gave a slow nod of her head, her gaze softening as it fell upon the floor. She struggled to take in a deep breath, her hands keeping completely still at her sides as she appeared to be trying to choose her words very carefully.

"Peter," She whispered, her voice growing low and soft. "Peter..." He suddenly felt her gentle touch upon his back..._and he couldn't help but sink into the contact...needing the comfort...needing to be her little boy again and not feel all of this terrible isolation and disconnect from those that he loved the most._

"Peter, I'm not here to lecture you." She insisted, her words almost getting lost in the hushed silence that had suddenly befallen them. "I know that you love Nathan more than anything. And I know...I know that you always make the right decisions."

Peter hung his head in agony..._the bitterness roiling through him like poisonous waves. He was choking on pain now...gagging on his bile as he tried to swallow it all down...he was threatening to explode again...and this time there was no superpower that could heal him...no Nathan that could scoop him up and carry him away._

"Ma..." Peter hissed, his teeth gritted tightly together. "Ma, _please_..."

"No, you're right. We need to talk about these things, Peter." Angela murmured, and he felt the bed sink down a little as she sat herself next to him. "We can't have anything left unsaid between us. Not like I did with..." She trailed off, her voice getting lost in her own deep regrets. There was a moment's silence before she finally spoke again, her voice coming out in a raspy hiss, "Not like I did with Nathan."

_It is the unsaid words in a relationship that come back to haunt us the most._

Peter knew how hard this must've been for her..._knew that she was doing this for him, as he felt her pain couple with his own in his consciousness. He hadn't connected with her in a long time...and he suddenly remembered why he had cut himself off from all of his loved ones for so long. God, feeling this deeply...feeling the emotions of others this deeply...it __hurt__. It was as if someone was cutting into his chest with a knife. His jaw ached, he was gritting his teeth so hard in response, his chest beginning to rise and fall with more prominence as it burned._

Angela pulled herself back together, her voice coming out determinedly stronger this time. "I'm sorry, Peter. You deserved better than what I've done to you."

"_Ma..._" Peter began, already regretting the anger he displayed towards her earlier..._regretting how distant he was to her since cultivating a relationship with Gabriel._

"No, let me finish!" Angela insisted, reaching down to grab his larger hands in her own..._they seemed to swallow hers up in an instant_. "I can't accept Gabriel for what he's done to this family. But the fact that you did..." She squeezed Peter's hands tightly, her voice falling to a low and controlled tone, "The fact that you did made a difference."

Peter let out a choked moan, turning to face his mother for the first time since before the anguish of last night. She was staring up at him insistently, her raven hair still falling around her shoulders in complete disarray, her eyes ringed with dark circles. _Oh, she hadn't slept at all last night either._

"You know, before he..._before_ there used to be a time when I just felt sorry for him." Angela continued to whisper, the low desperation to be understood still resounding in her tone. "He was so alone and lost and I thought that maybe if I gave him some structure and guidance than he could find some way to be useful. But he was so broken...so beyond repair..."

"He still is." Peter admitted, softly. He rushed his hand gently through his tangled, thick mess of hair. "He still is, Ma. I tried to fix him but all I ever did was hurt him."

"You can't fix people, Peter." Angela murmured, bringing a soft hand up to gently touch his cheek. Her eyes suddenly glassed over as she took in his face. She gave several protesting blinks, her hand continuing to caress his face. "You're all I have left. And I don't want..." She gave a hard swallow and a nod that Peter couldn't help but try and mirror to soothe her sorrow. "I don't want to ever lose _you_. You've always been my baby and...and I can't lose that too. Not because of anything I've done."

"Hey, Ma..." Peter insisted, reaching up to take her hand back down into his own. _His anger was starting to melt away entirely...an old and familiar affection eagerly surging forth to take its place. _"You're never gonna lose me. I was the one who messed up. I should've told you about me and Gabriel. I shouldn't have tried to close myself off from you...I've missed you." Peter gave a small, sad smile. "I've _needed _you. And I'm sorry"

Angela returned his smile with a gentle one of her own. She shook her head softly, "You were just trying to protect everyone. No...I realized something..._difficult _last night. That Gabriel and I share something in common." Her smile turned tight-lipped, as she fought to keep her conflicted feelings from surfacing too much..._but she knew that Peter understood her. They always had an understanding...and Peter was relieved to see that it hadn't faded even after all this time. _"Gabriel and I are both unworthy of your forgiveness. And, yet, you still grant it so willingly...and that's what the world needs." She took in a deep breath, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "Someone I cared for very much once told me that...that you were the one who was going to save the world through love. And it's true."

Peter gave a frustrated shake of his head. "But I didn't forgive him, Ma." _He felt his lips tremble as he spoke, trying to suck back the overpowering desire to breakdown and allow all of these emotions to sweep him away...to start clenching his fists and yelling as loudly as he could. _"I never forgave him for what he did."

Angela watched him curiously, her hand coming up to softly stroke back his messy bangs. "As..._complicated_ as our relationship could be at times, I did know your brother. Better than he probably knew himself at times." She shared a soft, knowing smile with Peter before continuing, "He wouldn't have been angry with you. You know that."

Peter nodded his head slowly, his lips pressed tightly together. "I know." He whispered, his words sounding low and choked as they trembled past him. "I _know_..."

And with those words, Peter felt a heavy and terrible burden suddenly lift from his shoulders. He hadn't realized how pressurized and tense his whole body had been all of these months until he noticed its absence. _God, it suddenly felt as if he could fly._

Peter released several choked half-sobs, his face falling down onto his mother's shoulder. He tightly wrapped his arms around her small form, his chest suddenly wracked with grief. She seemed to understand this outpour of sudden emotion; her own hands coming up to tenderly stroke the back of his hair. Peter felt her chest rising and falling against his own..._and she was crying too. They were both beyond words...beyond hiding anything from the other...but that was okay. It was time to release all of the pain and the sorrow they had been hanging onto for so long...and allow it to wash away._

"I love you, Ma." Peter murmured, lifting his head to lightly press his nose against her own, their foreheads gently touching. "I love you."

"Oh, Peter..." Angela hissed, her voice registering barely above a whisper. "_Oh, _Peter..."

_It occurred to Peter that Gabriel was very much alone right now with no soft and gentle touch of a mother's love and understanding to comfort him. Gabriel was completely isolated...and completely without respite for his anguish. The thought plagued Peter to no end, knowing that the righteous and the wicked do not simply choose their paths on equal footing; the cruel hand of Fate is always at play...positioning some above others...giving one man support and love in his sufferings while the other knows only loneliness and anger._

It wasn't much later that Angela, Peter, and Claire all ventured together to Nathan's grave. It was a heated summer's day, but a nice breeze was continually brushing over them. Claire still hadn't spoken to Peter since last night, but the young man hadn't sensed any anger or betrayal in his niece. No, it seemed as if she simply needed time to process what had taken place, and Peter was more than willing to grant her that.

A small American flag waved patriotically over Nathan's grave...there were at least twenty wreaths and cards already decorating the soft grass. _Nathan had touched more people's lives than he ever realized, Peter noted softly. He recognized a few of the names on the cards...the name Hiro Nakamura particularly leapt out as having sent his regards. Peter couldn't help but smile, a sensation of warmth pumping back into his iced blood stream. _

Claire bent down to place a large bouquet of flowers upon Nathan's grave, just below the cool marble of the untouched tombstone. She then folded her hands together, her head dropping in reverence as her golden curls enshrouded her face.

Angela linked her arm through Peter's and drew him in close. He rested his head on top of hers, his eyes slipping shut for a moment of silence.

A hushed sacredness befell the Petrellis and Claire. Nothing could be heard for miles, except for the faint whisper of the breeze rustling gently through the lush, green leaves of the oak trees that decorated the private cemetery.

_It had nearly been a year since Nathan had been with them. And how does one reflect on such a year? In reverent silence, in stirring testimonies, in admittance of unsaid words and feelings, in small, endearing anecdotes?_

"Happy birthday, Nathan." Claire murmured at last, her emerald eyes glistening in the light of the early morning sun. She gave a soft laugh, but it nearly died on her trembling lips. "Now we get to tease you for almost being forty."

Peter felt an unexpected laugh break free from his chest. He looked over at Claire and gave her an appreciative nod. _Nathan would've loved the fact that they could smile and laugh again. If Nathan would've been angry at Peter for anything, it would've been the fact that the young man hadn't smiled sooner._

Claire returned her uncle's nod with a knowing tilt of her head..._and Peter felt his heart swell within his chest. A wall he hadn't even realized he had built was beginning to crumble. He had closed himself off from the world...to protect his fragile heart...to keep from hurting anyone else through his failed good intentions. But something new and promising was stirring within him once again...a second chance...a gentle rebirth of hope._

And before Peter knew it, he couldn't stop chuckling. He pressed a hand to his face, his eyes wet as all of his conflicting emotions intermixed and ran out of him. He was smiling so brightly it made his cheeks sore..._even as he was blinking back his stinging tears._

Peter imagined he looked quite deranged, but he couldn't help himself any longer. _The past year had been hell...it had been beautiful...demented...enthralling...it was as if two different sides of Peter had been at war all year and only now had they finally made their peace and called a truce._

"I'm sorry." Peter finally whispered, squeezing his mother's hands tightly within his own. "I'm sorry, I just..."

Angela gave him a small nod, not needing any further explanation. She slipped her hand out of her youngest son's grasp, before taking a step forward towards the shiny tombstone. She placed her hands up against it, her body giving small yet visible trembles.

"I love you, Nathan." She hissed, the words just barely slipping past her gritted teeth. "I love you very much. I know you knew that...I _know _somehow you knew that."

Peter pursed his lips together, his hair slipping haphazardly into his gaze. _The hair that Gabriel once cut...it had grown back...it had healed as all things eventually do._

_The three of them stood in hallowed silence, knowing they were in the presence of sacred ground. It was the burial site of a martyr...a hero. And although it was evil that had cut the brave man down...it was Nathan who conquered the evil in the end. For indeed, Peter suddenly wondered if Nathan had saved Gabriel long before the younger man ever had the chance. If not for the strong presence of family and love in all of his brother's memories, Peter was certain that Gabriel would've been lost to the darkness forever. But Gabriel was free of those chains now...free because Nathan had helped cut him loose. And that...that was one of the most comforting thoughts that Peter had allowed himself to have in a very long time._

_Claire and Angela eventually left, knowing that Peter wished to have a moment alone with his older brother. Peter wasn't sure how long he staid by Nathan's side...all he noticed was how the sun went from shining its gentle, pink rays across the horizon to becoming a high, blaze in the summer sky and surmised it must've been many hours._

_Peter also found himself reminiscing about his own birth date...since he was young he had heard the story of how he needed extra care upon being born...later he was informed he had spent some time in the Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit. But even as the story fleshed out, one detail never changed. Nathan had been insistent to never leave the newborn's side...sticking by Peter until he was certain his little brother would be alright._

_Peter found himself wishing to return the favor today for Nathan...he was content to simply sit and be near, to let his brother know that even in death Peter refused to leave his side._

"I think you helped Gabriel." Peter finally spoke, his legs crossed as he sat comfortably at the foot of his brother's grave. "I think you helped him out more than I ever did, didn't you?"

"_Stop being ridiculous." Nathan responded, a patronizing look painting his warm, bright features. "You were the one who cared about him, right?"_

"I loved him." Peter admitted, tentatively picking at a blade of grass near his shoe. "I loved him more than anything. He was the _one_...the one you always told me I was gonna find one day, right?"

"_Yeah." Nathan agreed, a sincere smile finding its way to his face. "But if he was the one why did you let him go?"_

"Because I thought you'd be mad at me..." Peter began slowly, before catching the look his brother gave him. It was a familiar face of Nathan's, one that always none-too-subtly read, _'Cut the crap, I know you'._

"Alright, I was mad at him." Peter finally relented, giving a pained nod of his head. "I thought that by forgiving him I would lose a part of myself. That I would lose a part of _you_."

"_Well, maybe it's not fair to expect yourself to be able to forgive him for that." Nathan replied, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe you should just focus on forgiving him for all the wrongs he did to __you__. You aren't God...you can't pardon all of his sins. But you can forgive him for everything else...everything that's within__ your__ power of forgiving."_

"God, I know, Nathan..." Peter murmured, resting back on the palms of his hands. He watched his brother closely, appreciating the peace that Nathan's rational discourse always seemed to bring him. "I know...but I was scared too. I've been hurting for a long time now...I've been so _lost _from the rest of the world. And I was scared to turn that part of me back on for someone else...to give myself up to a man that couldn't even say 'I love you' to me."

"_Well, he's a crazy bastard, you've always known that." Nathan grinned, mirroring Peter's relaxed position as he leaned back as well. "He was just scared too."_

"But I needed him to say those things. I needed him to _tell _me that he was just as scared as I was..." Peter rushed his hand through his thick, dark hair. "It would've made all the difference."

"_You can't save everyone, Pete." Nathan insisted, his face growing more serious as he spoke these words. "If you kept throwing him a life preserver, he would never learn how to swim on his own."_

"Yeah..." Peter nodded, beginning to scratch at the dirt on the bottom of his shoe with his nail. "Yeah, you're right. It's gonna be better for him eventually...to learn how to cope with the powers...to learn how to fall in love with someone just because he _loves _them and not because he thinks they can _save _him."

"_See, Pete?" Nathan pointed at Peter as another easy smile graced his face. "You know what you're doing. You don't need me telling you what to do anymore."_

"I'll always need you to tell me what to do, Nathan." Peter retorted, a soft laugh escaping him. His face sobered up in an instant however, as he admitted heavily, "I still miss him though. I can't stop loving him. I never _want _to stop."

_Nathan hesitated for a moment, as if uncertain whether he wanted to tease his brother or offer him real support. Something made him settle on the latter, as if sensing the importance of Peter's struggle. "I know, Pete."_

Peter took in a shaky breath..._his heart still thudding roughly up against his chest. He couldn't imagine going home today with the knowledge that Gabriel wouldn't be there. He despised the thought that he had been transforming his apartment slowly...so that it would be warmer...more comfortable...full of life again...and now there was no one to share it with. He didn't want to be alone but he never wanted anyone else. He just wanted to hurt, hurt, hurt because feeling the pain was better than feeling nothing at all._

_Nathan seemed to understand. "Hey, I know it hurts bad. But you still got a lot of work to do. You can't stop being the hero that everyone needs you to be. You still got Ma and Claire...and you still have me." Nathan smiled, brightly, his million-dollar-smile seeming to sparkle in the brilliance of the sun. "I love you."_

Peter nodded, wiping his nose up against the hem of his sleeve. "I love you too, Nathan."

_Peter blinked quickly as he pushed himself back up onto his feet, knowing that half of the entire conversation had taken place within his mind. But it didn't matter...he knew Nathan well enough to know what words of advice his older brother would grant him. He had needed to sit and think...he had needed to hear Nathan's voice resounding in his head...reminding him of all the lessons that Nathan had indeed taught him when the older man had still been alive._

"I love you, brother." He reiterated, pressing his lips once again against the warmed stone of his brother's tomb. "Don't worry. I won't let you down. I'm never gonna stop using these powers for good...and even though I couldn't save _you_..." Peter gave a hard swallow, forcing a smile back onto his lips. "I'm gonna try and save everybody else. And..." He gave a conceding nod of his head, still hearing Nathan's voice resonating in his mind. "And I'm gonna try and smile more. And _laugh_ when I think of you."

Peter turned away from the solemn gravesite, but inside he felt a little lighter than he had before. His heart was still pounding against him with a ferocious sense of loss..._the loss of Gabriel...the loss of love..._but he felt oddly comforted at the same time.

_Something told him that Gabriel was going to be alright...he was a strong, determined man after all...and stubborn too...Peter felt himself give a soft, sad smile._

_But love was not selfish...and although it continued to kill him inside, Peter knew that he couldn't be either. He had been selfish in his love for Gabriel...clinging to the other man as a security blanket...as a knowledge that he would never be left alone again...simply because Gabriel was too damaged to leave._

_But Peter didn't want Gabriel to remain damaged any longer...and deep down; he knew that he never truly had. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of Gabriel discovering all kinds of new strength that he never previously imagined he had...or the thought of Gabriel beginning to love the parts of himself that Peter had long known were loveable._

Peter felt a bittersweet smile quirk his lips..._it was such a beautiful thought...a Gabriel who loved himself just as much as Peter did. Oh...Peter would be so happy for him...so, so happy for sweet, passionate Gabriel...all while dutifully ignoring the ache that continued to plague the young man's broken heart._


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Gabriel hadn't gone home that night, since it hardly felt as if he had a real home of his own to return to. After all, everything that mattered..._the security, the warmth, the love_...all of that resided in Peter's apartment. So instead, Gabriel had decided to take to the streets..._and being without a place to call his home seemed all too hauntingly familiar. It reminded him of when he was Sylar and home was either a choice between the rundown motel bedroom he had broken into or the lonely rooftop loft beneath the stars. Memories of those nights were devastatingly torturous...the suffocating silence, the numbing loneliness. He would not sleep tonight...he would not recreate moments from the dark past he had left behind._

Instead, he simply forced his feet to shuffle across the dreary and cold streets of the city..._weariness and bitterness sinking deeply into his every step. _One agonizing question kept piercing his thoughts..._without_ _Peter, who was Gabriel?_ _Was he still someone better than Sylar? Or was Sylar everything he still was at heart...a lost soul in the whirling dervish of this madcap world? Was he still hungry...famished...wishing for just a morsel of Jennifer's power to find its way to his watering mouth? And why...__why__...was he still so preoccupied with Jennifer at all?_

It was morning now, the only reminder that last night had taken place at all being Gabriel's cold, soaked clothes, his chilled, pale skin, and the aching throb that seemed to have taken a permanent residence in his chest.

_Peter was gone. God, who was Gabriel without Peter? The man he wished to be had never existed __without__ Peter's loving presence._

Gabriel shook his head, his whole body giving a shiver in response to the icy chill that had seeped into his bones over the course of the long night. His dark hair was wet and plastered to his ruddy, rain and tear-streaked face. He tried to sweep his hand through it, in some faint hope to make himself appear more presentable.

_These feelings of loss were more than just needing Peter so that Gabriel could remain a hero...Gabriel just needed Peter period. There was no other way in which to describe it...a life without Peter was like a life that had gone from being seen in thousands of brilliant, vivid colors to suddenly a dull and drab black-and-white._

_Last night seemed like such a blur in his mind's eye. He remembered everything up until Peter had left him standing alone and emotionally bleeding in the rain. After that...everything was just a cold and dreary recollection all rolled up into one hazy memory. He had wandered, he knew that...and looking around him now he realized that he was nearly on the other side of Manhattan. _ _He also recalled stepping into a diner during the early morning hours for a moment's warmth and respite from the storm. He was certain he had caused unease among the staff, seating himself in some dark booth in the back of the diner, but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't wanted anything...no food, no drink...only the napkins as he began messily scrawling on them, 'I love you, Peter'...over and over again as if his mind had been quite feverish with a need to expunge these overwhelming words from the depths of his soul. He had written it nearly a hundred times before the staff asked him to leave. He tried his best to stuff all of the napkins into his pockets, but he was sure that some had drifted lazily to the floor of the diner. It didn't really matter...a few seconds later he was drowning in the rain once again._

Gabriel shoved a hand into one of his pockets to survey his crazed love poem in the morning's light. He frowned faintly at the sight. The napkins were now wet and stuck together...the blue ink of the pen having run through its layers, although a faint 'love' and 'Peter' had survived here and there.

Not that any of that mattered in the end..._just like writing 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned' hadn't meant anything either..._but at least there was still some physical proof that there love had indeed once existed. _His memories not anything to rely on, after all...since they so often lied to him these days._

Gabriel brushed at his eyes with the damp hem of his sleeve. He knew he wasn't doing what Peter had asked of him yet..._he wasn't exactly taking good care of himself_. But how could he...he hadn't just lost a lover and a good friend. He had lost his _savior_...the man who had forgiven him of his sins and granted him the absolution he needed to change.

Gabriel shook his head quickly..._no that was his old and naïve view of Peter. Peter had learned to love him, certainly, had learned to trust Gabriel enough to know that he would no longer kill. But Gabriel had not been granted absolution. And why should he have been? Hadn't he been taught since he was a child that only God could forgive you of your sins and Gabriel had been running away from God for the past three years...shielding his face in shame as he shouted out blasphemies and curses._

Because as much as Gabriel insisted to himself that God no longer existed..._he was only lying to himself as he always did. _God was still out there, it was just Gabriel who could no longer feel His presence or hear His voice. Peter still could hear the call..._which is why he was able to stay grounded and focused in his goodness. Maybe Gabriel had simply substituted Peter for God...believing Peter to be his savior, his redeemer...his Christ figure. Indeed, Gabriel worshipped Peter when things went right and then blamed him whenever something went wrong._

_But Peter was only man. Yes, it was true that he was much better than most men...but Gabriel could no longer rest his entire hopes of salvation upon Peter's mortal shoulders. It was too much to ask of anyone._

Gabriel's feet ached with profound soreness for having moved without solace from his nighttime trek. He needed to take refugee somewhere..._but not his apartment. Not the apartment he had picked out with Peter...not the apartment that was now lonely and empty. No, he needed to find somewhere else to be his sanctuary...and as he delved into his memories for his ideas, it was ironically his mother, Virginia's, advice that rose to the forefront. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration to be sure it wasn't Angela he was remembering...that it wasn't Nathan's memories he was one again stealing from...but no, what he thought of now indeed belonged to Gabriel and no one else._

_He was a young boy, perched on his mother's lap. She was fixing his hair plaintively, her eyes resting upon him, but, nonetheless, always seeming distant and faraway somehow._

"_If you're ever in trouble, Gabriel..." She whispered softly, her fingers pushing his dark, thick hair into place. "If you're ever in trouble you can always find help in a church."_

_He nodded his head at her in solemn understanding. He had taken to this advice even well into his adulthood...whenever he was feeling particularly dark and hopeless he would find himself sitting in a pew in Mass...hoping that whatever the priest was saying would somehow translate into himself finding peace. And when he had taken the name of Sylar...when the hunger was clawing at his insides and his hands were guilty with the stain of innocent blood...he had tried going to church one last time. He had pleaded with God to save him...to quell the madness that was now boiling in his veins._

_But nothing had changed. __He__ never changed._

So, it was strange now that Gabriel found himself at the foot of the marble steps that led into _Holy Trinity Catholic Church_. He found himself apprehensive to take that first step forward..._certain he might burst into flames upon entering_.

But something Peter had once said to him seemed to be bubbling to his consciousness once more, and Gabriel didn't feel like scoffing at the sentiment as much as he had the first time.

"_Everythin' we have...our ability to save people, our ability to love, what you and me have together...God gave us all of that."_

Gabriel took a heavy swallow as he tentatively placed one foot on the first cold, marble step. He held his breath, feeling fairly foolish when nothing happened..._ he wasn't sure exactly what he had expected...although a rainstorm of fire and brimstone came to mind_.

Gabriel felt his hand reach into his pocket instinctively for the rosary he always carried around with him..._and frowned when he realized his pockets simply held soggy napkins with the writings of a madman placed on them. He hadn't carried the rosary for many years._

"What am I supposed to do?" Gabriel whispered his voice low and choked. The sun was peaking over the horizon and breaking across the church's steeple, painting it in a light pink glow. "What am I supposed to do...you abandoned _me_. Am I still supposed to seek you out?"

_But no one answered, and Gabriel faintly wondered if God was just as tired of telling Gabriel what to do as Peter had been._

Gabriel took another step forward up the old church. He kept forcing one foot to move in front of the other..._until he was standing right at the doorframe; its windows a stain glass amalgamation of reds-and-blues._

He cracked the door open and it gave a loud creak in response. He winced, hoping he hadn't drawn attention to himself. But after peering inside, Gabriel was relieved to find that the old church remained empty in these early morning hours.

Gabriel pushed his way past the door and entered the church. It was designed like all old churches had been at one time...there were several rows of old, wooden pews. _He remembered sitting in pews like those when he attended Mass with his mother. His height and the length of his legs had always made sitting in such seats extremely uncomfortably. _There was also a high choir loft..._his mother always wanted him to try out for the choir, but he was too shy and self-conscious for that. _There were highly decorated stain glass windows bearing saints all adorned in dazzling colors..._the streaming light through the windows washing the whole church in beautiful reds, blues, yellows, and greens. _And there...there was the altar..._and the crucifix. And Gabriel knew he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't afraid of that man on the cross...that he didn't fear his condemnation and judgment. _

And quite suddenly, Gabriel felt his legs tremble beneath him. Those wooden eyes seemed to burn into his blackened soul..._and there was nowhere left to run. The Lord had finally caught up with him, and he couldn't even shield his face in response. He was naked in the garden, and his shame was without concealment._

Gabriel felt his legs give out from underneath him at the foot of the altar..._the priest's sacrificial prayer ringing tremulously in his ears._ His hands shook pitifully at his sides as he stared up at the old, carved crucifix. He blinked quickly, his breathing now coming out hard and belabored as he realized that this was the first time he would be addressing God since..._since._

"I promised myself I'd never come back." Gabriel hissed, his voice coming out heavy and hoarse. "The last time...the last time I was in here I felt _nothing_. I felt empty...and dead inside. And coming here hadn't changed _anything_."

The man on the cross continued to watch him, without any acknowledgement that Gabriel's grievances were heard. _Because he never answered Gabriel anyway. Gabriel could talk until he lost his voice...the man on the cross never spoke to him anymore._

Gabriel felt his jaw tighten, his insides beginning to burn with a heated anger rather than fear now. "I was lost and I asked you for help!" He spat, his face flushing red as his hands clenched at his sides. "I didn't just turn my back on you! I _needed_ you and you turned your back on _me_! Where _were_ you, huh? Where _were _you when I really needed you to save me? You let me fall...you let me condemn myself to hell..._you still could've saved me_!"

Gabriel blinked back hot tears, his rage pouring through him like a river of lava. _He had felt this way for the past three years. It was clear now that telling himself the God didn't exist was solely for the comfort of not having to admit the fact that if He did exist it just meant He wasn't interested in helping Gabriel._

"I wasn't so far gone in the beginning. I was practically _begging _for forgiveness." Gabriel hissed, no longer worried that someone might hear or discover him. His knees ached from the hardness of the wooden floor beneath him, but Gabriel dutifully ignored his discomfort. "I gave you every part of myself for twenty-nine years! How could you just give up on me the minute I lost my way? None of this needed to happen...Nathan didn't need to die!"

The words resounded eerily around the empty church..._bouncing off of the choir loft, echoing across the brass pipes of the organ, coming back to settle in Gabriel's sensitive ears._

"Nathan meant everything to Peter." Gabriel murmured, a dark insistence rising up in his voice. He felt as if an invisible hand was choking him..._urging him not to speak such cutting words_...but he could no longer leave any words left unsaid. "So tell me, God...why..._why _didn't you kill me before I could...before I could kill _him_?"

Gabriel shook his head angrily, the words once more resounding off the walls before coming back to him in a hollow, mocking echo.

"When I first met Chandra...I thought that you were finally answering my prayers." Gabriel hissed, softly. He forced himself to look up, to finally look the wooden man on the cross in the eyes. "So tell me..._what_ did all of this mean in the end?"

Gabriel took in a deep breath as he ran his hands through his mess of dark, damp hair. _Why was he even here? And why was he shouting at someone who he had long ago put away as a childish notion? He was at a complete loss as to what to do next...the only idea that was flitting through his weary mind being that of finishing his memories about Peter._

Gabriel hesitated, his eyes hardening as he took in the fullness of his thought's meaning. _Yes, the memories. The ones of himself and Peter...the ones that were supposed to tell him why Fate would always lead one back to the other. He had come so far with the memories...from that first meeting of innocent Peter at Claire's homecoming...to holding Peter hostage against a wall in a hungering attempt to unlock the young man's secrets...to trying to force Peter to explode...to believing each other to be family while trying to grow and learn together...to looking up into Peter's eyes and seeing nothing but torment and hate...to the final and most bittersweet memories of their joint story together._

_After the death of Nathan, Sylar felt more lost than ever before. He had thought that purging Nathan's consciousness from his mind might revitalize him...might give him a dose of understanding as to what he should do next. Instead, he only felt more confused and empty._

_Peter's eyes...Sylar couldn't get those eyes out of his head. Peter had looked so hurt, so broken...and Sylar hated dwelling on that image. Still, there it was every time Sylar tried to close his eyes to sleep at night._

_And so Sylar decided that the best course of action would be simply to go back to what he knew best...what was always so chillingly familiar to him._

_He would go back to killing others and taking their power as his own. Because he was so incredibly empty inside and the powers were the only thing that could fill that gaping hole...after all, love certainly never would._

_While Sylar had been a strange mixture of Nathan's memories and Gabriel's soul, he had visited a carnival that was run by other special ones. It seemed like a good place as any to begin his quest anew, a literal buffet of powers for his previously starved soul._

_After all, he hadn't killed since...since Nathan..._

_Since he last saw that sick, pained look radiating in Peter's soft eyes._

_But even gathering new powers seemed tiresome and pointless now. The head of the carnival, Samuel, offered Sylar a place to stay among them. But Sylar had refused, weary and cynical of being used as a pawn in everyone else's war. Sylar was unable to kill Samuel, even when the other man attacked him. The older man had the ability to control the very earth beneath them, and had used it to ravage Sylar's face down to the bone._

_Sylar had healed, of course, but was knocked unconscious for several hours as a result of his previously sustained injuries. When he awoke, he was met by a mysterious young woman named Lydia. Lydia was special as well, and had a rather unique method for discovering the intense desires of others._

_She sought to discover his wants as she kissed him quite tenderly...and soon his coupled desire for human closeness and a throbbing rage at his inner weaknesses had led their embrace to become much more ferocious...and Sylar remembered seeing flashes of everything he had ever wished to forget pass before his eyes...Parkman and his family...Nathan with his boys and Claire...__and Peter__...memories of being a husband, a father..._

"_You want love." Lydia finally gasped, breaking away from him. "You just don't think that you deserve it."_

_Sylar could have told her as much. He had long known that he didn't deserve anyone's love...even before his murderous spree, painfully awkward and shy Gabriel Gray had often felt completely unlovable._

_But he deserved a purpose at the very least. His mad and directionless wanderings might have satisfied him when he was a younger man, but he was three years older now, and in a poignant way, three years wiser. He was no longer interested in the hollow victories of his youth...he needed to prove to himself that there was more to the man in the mirror than what he currently saw._

_Samuel helped Sylar, using his power to couple with the power that Sylar had absorbed from Lydia to show where the young man should venture next on his journey. Samuel stuck a needle into Sylar's skin and ink quickly sunk in to blacken it. The face that formed on his skin out of the inky pool was somehow less surprising than it should have been._

_Claire Bennet. But of course, the cheerleader he had first hungered for...the girl who had taken a string and wrapped it around his soul...keeping him and the other heroes firmly entwined in the same fateful destiny._

_And although it took some rather clever deception and arm-twisting on Sylar's part, Claire indeed helped him to realize his fatal flaw. Sylar's imagined strength and might...his powers... they were actually the very things that were making him weak...the very properties that were draining him and cutting him off from the rest of humanity. Hadn't he once said that they made his brain feel like it was made of cotton and ice...strangulating and suffocating him?_

_Sylar believed that Matt Parkman could help him...after all, Matt possessed the one power that could purge Sylar of these destructive, addictive abilities once and for all. But Matt only remembered the havoc and terror that Sylar had previously caused him, and so he only thirsted for vengeance. Matt locked Sylar away; deep inside his own consciousness...and Sylar was soon trapped in the never-ending horror that was his own tortured mind._

_To add to Matt's curse was the fact that Sylar instantly forgot that he was only trapped in a dream. This empty world, devoid of life...hopeless and silent and cold...it became all too real for Sylar. The churning, aching loneliness and chaos that frequently plagued his inner spirit now permeated this painful new reality as well._

_At first, Sylar imagined that he and Claire were the only immortals to survive some cataclysmic event that hit the Earth. But there wasn't a Claire anymore it seemed...or at least she wasn't anywhere near the frightening, ghostly remains of New York City._

_Or maybe everyone was dead, Sylar included, and this was just his own personal Hell. After all, he couldn't remember anything that had happened since leaving Matt Parkman's house...perhaps the aforementioned catastrophe struck the globe soon thereafter, leaving Sylar in some circle of Hell that no other sinner dared to venture._

_In the early times, Sylar had spent fruitless hours seeking out the others: Claire, Angela, Matt, Hiro, or Mohinder...anyone who might've heard him as he ran down the empty city streets while shouting out their names. The only name he never called for was Peter's...__because he could never again look Peter in the eye after all that had transpired between them._

_And then one year passed...and then two...and Sylar accepted the fact that all of the others had died long ago and he had somehow just forgotten when or why. Maybe he had finally done it...maybe he had killed them all and now he truly was the most special._

_Just like he always wanted..._

_By the third year, Sylar understood that he was doomed to wander the Earth like some damned, restless spirit. Around year two, Sylar had found an old, abandoned clock shop that was filled with every kind of watch that one could imagine...and every single one of them was broken. He took to fixing them in a quiet study based in his old apartment. _

_He hadn't lived in his apartment in many years...and it was now quite different then he had first left it. It had been neat and orderly...as if to contrast the dangerous chaos that always seemed to be tumbling around in his brain. But now it was a perfect mirror: books overflowing in numerous disorganized piles, watches both broken and fixed filling every spare corner, and endless cans of food to keep him nourished._

_He always meant to clean it...after all, there was a familiar part of his brain that was reawakened; it was anxious and upset by the disorderly mess. But somehow instead of cleaning, he'd just bring home more books to throw into a pile...or he'd find more broken watches to fix. Once, while scavenging about the city, he found a whole warehouse filled with instruction manuals...__for satisfying his every curiosity as to how things worked__...and he had literally spent hours hauling them all back home for further inspection._

_Sometimes he pulled himself away from his clocks and instruction manuals long enough to try and clean...and he'd always start by attempting to scrub those two damned bloody handprints off of his front door. They were his handprints...but the blood belonged to one of Sylar's earliest victims. He'd scrub for hours...sometimes for days...but it didn't matter. The blood would never come off, indeed, it would not even fade. He'd leave and search the city in the hopes of finding a stronger cleaning solution...but somehow he always just returned home with more watches...more books...more instruction manuals...more junk._

_Every now and then, he would take a break from his mundane daily routine. He would spend this time gazing out of his window and down at the desolate streets below. He would wonder about what had ever happened to Peter in the end. He would wonder if Peter had ever smiled again after the night of Nathan's death...or if he had just looked sad and unhappy for the rest of his life instead._

_He would sometimes close his eyes and pretend that Peter stood right in front of him, his cheeks flushed bright red as a sorrowful frown quirked those beautiful lips. Those lips always looked as if they tasted so delicious...__and Sylar was always so hungry._

_He dared to believe that he could somehow lean forward and kiss Peter...dared to believe that such an action would pull a smile from out of the young man's torment. Sylar stepped forward, his burning lips parting, his nose spurting heated breaths as he moved to sink the fullness of his mouth onto Peter's...but he'd always stop short, his eyes opening to reveal an empty space before him; his hot breath not scorching Peter's fevered skin but only fogging the glass of his windowpane._

_Everyone was dead and gone, of course...and Peter was no exception._

_One day, Sylar was busy fixing a stack of watches he had found several weeks ago. He knew he really needed to stop bringing them back to his apartment; he had a backlog of over three hundred broken clocks and watches that formed small mountains in several rooms._

_But at the same time, he knew that the clocks were a necessity. It calmed his anxious, pained mind...it busied his itching hands...it quelled the dark fire in his stomach that cried out for a feast that no longer existed._

_And then...there was a sound. At first, Sylar believed he had imagined it. In the early years, he had imagined all kinds of noises...his mother's voice; mocking, whispered taunts, the screech of a car outside, or even a child's laughter...all had merely been illusions._

_But this sound was persistent...demanding even. It was a slow, dull pounding noise. It started off softly but only seemed to grow louder and louder in its insistence to be heard._

_Sylar glanced up from his work, a sick fear beginning to sink into him. The noise was increasing in its intensity...there was almost an emotion present behind it. Anger...someone was angrily banging against something. It sounded like the monsters that used to plague his childhood nights...they would hit pipes and floorboards and send him running to his mother's bed for protection. His mother would then comfortingly explain to him what each noise meant, such as the furnace turning on or the old pipes groaning in the wintertime. These realizations always made every fear seem much more manageable to young Gabriel._

_With this thought in mind, Sylar decided that things felt infinitely worse somehow when one did not know what they were. His shoulders scrunching low in self-protection, Sylar decided to venture out towards the mysterious intrusion._

"_Hello?" He cried out, nervously. "Hello?"_

_The banging was louder now that he was outside and walking the streets. The source always seemed to elude him though...and after he doubled back around for the fifth time to an isolated street, he began to doubt the strength of his sanity._

_He could still hear it...but he could no longer see. He was slowly losing all of his senses, and he groaned in frustration as he turned around once more...__willing himself to see. He had wandered around blindly for so long, but only because it was easier than seeing how alone and small he truly was. But now he wished to see...he needed to see._

_Sylar hesitated, the form of a man slowly coming into view before him. There was something strikingly familiar about him...the thick, dark hair...the sturdy structure...the sharp features...__those eyes._

_Sylar squinted at the young man in growing uncertainty. __Sure that his mind was once more playing a cruel trick on him. __"Peter?"_

_The young man continued to stare at him, a burning fire still roaring in those eyes._

"_Is that really you?" Sylar wondered, his legs now taking him without his knowledge or consent towards the young man._

_Peter began matching Sylar's strides as he tossed a parking meter he had been holding down to the ground with a loud clatter. Within moments, he was close enough to reach out and touch._

_And that's exactly what Sylar wanted to do. He wanted to touch Peter...to be sure that he was real. He had wanted Peter for so long...he had imagined this moment so guiltily a thousand times over...this couldn't be anything more than a desperate mirage._

_Sylar cautiously lifted his hand and allowed it to drift towards Peter. Peter was speaking now, but Sylar couldn't hear what he was saying. He was too busy concentrating on keeping his hand from shaking as it touched the soft fabric of Peter's black jacket...as it felt the hard, coiled muscle that contracted beneath Peter's shirt...as his fingertips sensed the throb, throb that pulsated from Peter's very real heartbeat._

_Sylar moved his hand up to Peter's shoulder and grasped onto it, as if certain that the young man would disappear at a moment's notice. He finally lifted his gaze, locking it onto Peter's. __Ah, those eyes...and at once Sylar knew._

"_It is you, isn't it?" Sylar murmured, softly._

_Peter continued to watch him with a surprised gaze. Sylar allowed his touch to slip away, a sudden harshness befalling him. __This wasn't right...why would Peter suddenly appear in Sylar's life after three years of complete isolation and solitude? It didn't make any sense..._

"_I thought that I was alone here, that everyone was dead." Sylar snapped, his voice edged with a sudden rough accusation. "What are you doing here?"_

_Harshness also befell Peter, his sudden surprise washed away by a bright and simmering anger. "I came to drag your sorry ass out of here, now let's go."_

_No, no this was wrong...there was no escaping this city. Sylar used to try...used to run until he fell down in an exhausted heap, choking on his own dry spit and vomit. One always seemed to find the same places over and over again...all overflowing with material things, but not a single living, breathing entity._

"_There is no getting out of here, Peter. I've tried." Sylar felt a dark frustration resurfacing within him as he glanced around the godforsaken city. "For three years."_

"_Three years?" Peter demanded, a disbelieving smile quirking his lips. "What're you talkin' about? It's been three __hours__."_

_Three hours? No, no, Sylar had lived every minute of those three devastating years. Oh god...no. Peter wasn't...he wasn't real. Sylar had snapped and had conjured this fake semblance of Peter instead...and the realization that Peter was indeed still dead was almost gruesome as this figment Peter continued to taunt and mock._

_Sylar backed away slowly, an aching dread seeping into his chest. "Wait a minute...you're not...really here." _

_He turned around, the icy fear clutching at his heart once more. "This is my mind, isn't it? This is my mind playing tricks on me as part of my punishment, isn't it?" He rounded on this terrible, fake Peter in sudden anger. "You think I'm gonna let you taunt me? You stay away."_

_Sylar tore off down the street, hoping that somehow the solace of his familiar apartment might be enough to make Peter go away once more. "If you follow me I will kill you, you understand me?"_

"_SYLAR!" Peter cried out, and Sylar could hear the young man's feet slapping against the pavement in pursuit._

_Sylar ran as fast as he could, his feet flying across the empty streets as he rounded back to his apartment complex. He knew that Peter was still pursuing him, but Sylar hoped that by ignoring his existence the young man's presence might slowly fade away just like every other bad memory._

_Sylar burst into his apartment, the two bloody handprints now seeming like a taunt as they blazed across his doorframe. Sylar rummaged around his messy desk for something he could use as a weapon...he reached for an old, rusty hammer right as Peter entered._

_Sylar_ _wielded the hammer furiously; both scared of and enraged at this macabre fake-Peter. "I swear I'll kill you! Get out of my head!"_

_Peter held up his hands in a calming manner. "Calm down. I'm telling you the truth. I came to take you out of here."_

_And yet, how could he be fake...how could Sylar's twisted thoughts have conjured Peter so perfectly before him? Even now, Peter possessed some strange, soothing power. Even now, his words held the sincerity of a man that never lied. And something else...the fact that Peter kept saying that he came to take Sylar away from this place...that was the second time he had mentioned such a thing._

"_Why do you keep saying that?" Sylar whispered._

"_I went to Parkman's house to look for you." Peter insisted, keeping his voice as even and gentle as possible. "He put you here. This is a dream..."_

"_No, it's not a dream!" Sylar shouted in sudden frustration. __None of this made any sense...Peter was dead and now he lived...but nothing he was saying seemed to fit the reality that Sylar had come to know. __ "This is real."_

_But Peter only scoffed in disbelief. "You really don't understand that this is all just a nightmare?"_

"_Hell yes, it's a nightmare." Sylar breathed out, darkly. "Three years, completely alone."_

"_Not years, hours." Peter explained, the calmness of his tone only betrayed by some dark fire that still burned in his eyes. "Alright? Parkman trapped you here."_

_Parkman? No, Parkman had died years ago too..._

_Sylar shook his head, confusion seeping into him. "Parkman? No, that's impossible..."_

"_Is it?" Peter demanded, insistently. "What's the last thing you remember? Before coming here?"_

_What was before any of this? It seemed like a lifetime ago...there were ghosts of memories...there were sparse recollections of emotions felt._

"_I remember wanting my life to change." Sylar admitted, grabbing onto the emotions that always seemed to last the test of time. "Thinking that I was going to spend all of eternity alone."_

"_And here you are." Peter agreed, softly. Then he added, "I've got Parkman's ability, I can take you out of here."_

_Sylar felt a mirthless smile spread across his lips as he shook his head. "Why would you want to do that? The brother of the man I murdered, coming to my aid?"_

_At the first mention of Nathan, Sylar could see Peter's eyes harden. There it was...the first time Nathan's death was said. The first time Peter had swallowed his hatred in an attempt to be the world's savior. The first time both men would look each other in the eye after having tried to destroy the other._

"_Because I need you to help me." Peter finally admitted, his tone tight and controlled as his eyes spit fire. There was nothing soft or gentle about him anymore, his fallen brother's name having burned away his carefully-constructed calm. "Look, I could leave you here to rot. But I need you..."_

_And Peter went on to explain how thousands of people were going to die. How the fate of the innocents once more laid in the hero's hands. Only this time, the hero needed someone to help him bring about salvation...how Peter dreamt that Sylar was to be that very man._

_And with these words, Sylar knew that Peter was indeed truly real. Only Peter would venture into hell to make a deal with the devil all because the angels had come to him in the night and whispered a means of hope into his ear. Peter always placed his faith in the fact that these powers were good...that hope was something to cling to rather than to discard. Sylar was faintly glad that the death of Nathan hadn't changed that part of Peter, but another part of him wished to shut down such childish notions._

"_You've got the wrong guy; I'm not the savior kind." Sylar shook his head, a cruel smile painting his face. "You should know that better than anybody."_

_Because Nathan was dead...and both men knew why._

"_It's gonna happen." Peter insisted, his jaw set in determination._

_Sylar raised an eyebrow in amusement, dropping his hammer to the side with a clunk. "Fine. You really think you can get us out of here? Let me see you try. Go ahead."_

_Sylar meant to infuriate Peter with his sarcastic challenge, and it seemed to have worked. _ _Peter made a fist before allowing his hand to unclench. He reached out tentatively, as if dreading the moment he would have to touch Sylar. Nonetheless, his hand finally clasped tightly upon Sylar's shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut in an attempt to use Parkman's power._

_But nothing happened, of course. Peter's hopes would be dashed upon the ground once more. And Sylar was glad...because he was angry that Peter had told him he would save when in reality, Sylar did nothing but destroy...and he was furious with Peter for having brought all of these false promises of salvation when there was nothing but damnation._

_Sylar cocked his head to the side, mockingly. "See? We're not goin' anywhere."_

_Peter flung his arm off of Sylar's shoulder as if he had been burned as Sylar continued, darkly, "We're trapped here forever."_

"_No, that can't be right." Peter breathed out, his face awash with horror. "This is a dream...we should be able to wake up..."_

"_Why don't you wake up and face reality?" Sylar snapped, taking a heated step forward. __Peter's terror was reminding Sylar of his own when he first realized how alone the rest of his life was destined to be. Sylar had come to accept his fate; he didn't need to relive his darkest moments through Peter now.__ "You never should've come after me, Peter. Where have you been hiding for all of these years anyway?"_

"_This is a dream!" Peter shouted, rounding on Sylar with a sudden and unexpected intensity. He face was flushed red, his hands trembling at his sides. "Are you doing this? Are you trying to keep me trapped in here with you?" Peter gave a harsh scoff. "What, you wanna kill me too?"_

"_Please, Peter, why would I even bother?" Sylar spat, his own frustration and fear bubbling to the surface and manifesting itself in a biting cruelty. "I could've killed you years ago; it just never seemed quite worth the effort." He bit at the inside of his cheek, but the words tumbled out all the same. "After all, you were never the important one, were you...?"_

_Peter lunged forward and grabbed Sylar by his shirt collar, slamming the taller man backwards onto the desk. Sylar was caught by surprise at Peter's sudden outburst, his breath wheezing out of his contracted lungs._

"_Do you know what I wanna do to you, Sylar?" Peter seethed, his words coming out in a low, dark voice that Sylar hadn't previously imagined Peter possessing. "I wanna beat your face in with whatever object I can get my hands on. I wanna make you bleed...I wanna make you scream. The only reason I'm not...is because I need to save all of those people." Peter's eyes were fixed with intensity, his breath hot and angry. "Do you understand me? The minute I find out that I can't get us out of here...the minute I realize that there really is no escape...god, I'm gonna mutilate the hell outta you."_

_Sylar stared at Peter in shock...not realizing that such words, such feelings would ever come out of Peter's mouth. Making it somehow worse was the fact that Sylar hadn't felt such violent urges himself in years. No, he had been using his hands only to fix watches, to turn the pages of books, to scrub at two bloody handprints...not to harm, not to hurt...__but only because no one existed in which to harm and hurt, he reminded himself darkly._

_But it seemed to be different for Peter...it seemed as if Nathan's death was still fresh as ever...as if it truly was not three years ago for him._

"_So you better hope to God that we can get out of here." Peter spat, his grip retreating from Sylar's form as he straightened himself back up. Without another word, Peter turned on his heels and strode towards the door._

"_Where are you going?" Sylar demanded, rubbing his left shoulder, tenderly._

"_Don't follow me." Peter snapped heatedly, not even bothering to slow down as he stalked out of the apartment._

_And Sylar didn't dare to disobey this order. _ _But he suddenly felt very cold and alone once again, wishing he hadn't said anything at all to Peter. As strange as it seemed, he had enjoyed having someone else to talk to...even if they were only spitting hatred at each other._

_It would be a month before he would have a chance to talk to Peter again. _


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Peter sat up on the rooftop of his apartment complex, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned up against the crossbar..._the only thing keeping him from plummeting over fifty stories_. _He once said that he had a love/hate relationship with rooftops...that still proved to be very true._

It was closing in on evening, the sun just starting to dip behind the towering skyscrapers, bathing the city and all of its inhabitants in a comforting orange shroud.

Peter released a deep breath, running one hand through his mess of dark hair. It was a warm summer night and he was dressed down in a simple black T-shirt and jeans. Claire was back inside his apartment, as she had wanted to take a shower after a long day.

_After leaving Nathan's grave, Peter had made his way back to his mother's apartment. Both she and Claire were waiting for him; a freshly brewed pot of coffee there to meet him as well. The three of them gathered around the kitchen table with their steaming mugs and proceeded to look at pictures and share stories of Nathan...soft smiles and gentle laughs punctuating each tale._

_Every now and then, someone would remember a story that made them all fall silent...such as the time when Nathan had swooped in at the eleventh hour to save New York City. But there was a freedom that permeated their storytelling...no story was off limits and no story was meant to be forgotten. Even painful stories have a place in one's life, and there was an understanding that passed between the remaining Petrellis and Claire that it was alright to allow themselves to feel each emotion associated with Nathan's life...and death...without shame or judgment._

_Later, Angela brought out the cake she had baked for Nathan. It was a simple vanilla cake with simple vanilla frosting and the words, 'Happy Birthday, Nathan' colorfully decorating the top. Angela placed it down on the table gently and Peter could tell that she was struggling to keep the tears out of her eyes._

"_I can't believe it's been a year already." She smiled tightly, gripping onto the knife she had placed by the side of the cake's plate. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago...and sometimes it feels like just yesterday that he was sitting right here..."_

_Peter grabbed onto his mother's hand in order to soothe her slight trembling. He didn't say anything, but he hadn't needed to...his touch alone seemed to steady Angela once more._

_Claire gave a bright smile, even as she brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Wait...don't cut it yet. We should put some candles on it and light it...like a real birthday cake."_

_And so they did, Claire being the one to stick three candles in one row and eight in another to symbolize Nathan having turned thirty-eight. They sang softly, almost under their breaths, but together it was enough to convey their intent. Peter was the one to bend down and blow out the candles...a memory flashing before his eyes as he did so._

_Peter had just blown out the candles on his own cake, his face flushed with contentment. He would be lying if he didn't admit that he was enjoying the fact that his birthday had been remembered by someone other than his mother. He hadn't planned on doing anything special after work that day, but the cake and company had been a welcome surprise._

"_Thanks, man." Peter smiled, hitting the other man appreciatively on the arm. "I didn't expect you to come over here with the cake and everything. I appreciate it."_

"_Of course, Peter." Gabriel nodded, pleased by the young man's response. He continued to watch Peter closely...something dark and longing burning with unsettling clarity in his gaze. "You've always been so kind to me and I wanted to do something for you in return."_

_Peter tried to wave his words away uncertainly, but hesitated as Gabriel suddenly moved forward to round a gentle touch to Peter's elbow._

_Peter stiffened slightly...the gesture wasn't exactly unwanted, but these little flirting touches were becoming more and more frequent between them. They never moved beyond a fleeting brush here and there, but still...there was a constant bubbling and churning tension that seemed to be growing and tightening between the two men...like a rubber band being stretched until the point of snapping in release...and Peter was never entirely sure how adamant he was about stopping it from happening._

_Peter blinked quickly, picking the knife up in his hand before sinking it down into the cake. __It seemed that just when his memories of Nathan were growing less and less anguished that the exact opposite held true for his memories of himself and Gabriel._

_Angela, Claire, and Peter gathered back around the kitchen table to eat their slices of cake. They didn't speak much more, instead eating in a state of contented silence. By the time evening fell, Peter asked his mother if she would be alright if he and Claire left for the night._

"_I'll be fine, Peter." Angela smiled, running her fingers through the thickness of his hair with a gentle absentmindedness. Her smile faltered as she pressed, "Will __you__ be alright?"_

"_Yeah." Peter nodded, quickly. He quirked his lips to the side, before releasing a soft sigh. "I mean, it's gonna be rough for a little while. But I'll be fine. And I actually feel...better. I feel a lot better, Ma."_

_Angela nodded, rising on her tiptoes in order to give Peter a small kiss on the top of his forehead. "Take good care of yourself."_

_Peter nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around his mother and pulled her into a tight hug. It seemed unfathomable now that he had ever wished to push her away. He squeezed her close, pressing the tip of his nose onto the top of her head._

_Angela finally pulled away, touching his face gently with the palm of her hand. She smiled, lightly, before giving him a soft smack across the cheek. Peter couldn't help but laugh, nodding knowingly in return._

Peter sighed, gazing down thoughtfully at the busy streets below. He couldn't help but wonder what Gabriel was doing right now..._Peter hoped that the other man had returned to his apartment. Maybe Gabriel had made a cup of tea for himself and had settled down to read a book...or maybe two or three..._Peter frowned, the image always becoming unbearably lonely somehow.

Police sirens blared somewhere in the distance, and Peter realized faintly that he would have to protect the streets on his own now, without the comfort of Gabriel's partnership. _Peter found that this thought angered him slightly. It seemed as if he finally found reconnection...with his family, with his emotions and the emotions of others...and yet, he was robbed of the one connection that he hungered for so greatly._

Peter pressed his chest flat across the crowbars as he began to lift his arms up to his side. At this angle, the uncomfortable sensation of freefalling seemed to surge through his being, but it was exactly what he wanted to feel. For indeed, he had been freefalling ever since he first fell in love with Gabriel, and now he was preparing to fully hit the ground. Claire would leave after this weekend and he would be alone once more.

_Just when he was beginning to feel it all come back...the deep, intense connections of before. It hardly seemed fair that he should be shoved back into a world of isolation and grief. If only his healing could take place like Claire's power...if only his wounds would close almost as soon as they were cut open._

Peter lifted his arms higher, his stomach tumbling painfully as he did so. _Gabriel had always told Peter that part of these powers were mental...they existed in the brain. And if Peter was shutting himself off from the world than so was he shutting off his empathy...and the power that flowed through that empathy. But today...in the graveyard talking to Nathan...it was as if some heavy curtain was lifted from Peter's psyche._

Something was slowly changing within him, and Peter had felt it happening since the night he and Gabriel had made love on the top of the kitchen table. There was an abandonment of needing to be right, needing to own a power struggle, or needing to be defensive or protective. No, instead there had only been love in its purest and most unadulterated, rawest of forms. When Peter woke up the next morning, he felt some emotional connection spike through his brain...drawing him to Gabriel and bringing them closer as if a bright light were illuminating them both. Later that day, Peter had visited his mother..._and now he wondered if he absorbed her ability to dream the future that day, certain now that his dreams predicting her and Gabriel's meeting were no coincidence. And he had maintained that ability, even after taking lightening from Gabriel that very same night._

Peter brought his arms back around to his front, wishing to test his theory. A part of him was deeply hesitant to be right..._he was scared to be right. Scared to be the sole master of all of these powers with no one around to keep him in check...no Nathan and now no Gabriel._

Peter concentrated on his hands, burning his gaze into both of them. He visualized a blue spark crackling forth, but his hands remained unchanged. He gritted his teeth, his eyes continuing to focus intently, something compelling him to keep trying.

"_You shouldn't doubt yourself anymore, Pete." Nathan spoke, leaning up against the crossbar next to Peter. It was the first time that Nathan wasn't confined to his grave, instead travelling with his brother in order to impart advice to him. "You need to stop thinking that you don't know what it is that you need to do."_

Peter pursed his lips together, his jaw tightening as he watched his now trembling hands. _He needed to let go of his fear. He needed to let this part of himself free to flow through him...he couldn't keep something so integral to his very being locked up inside anymore._

"_I could save you, Peter." Gabriel whispered, his dark brown eyes burning into Peter's like a black sun. "But you never allow me to."_

At that very moment, a small charge of blue electricity shot forth from both of Peter's hands, shooting off into the night sky before showering down like droplets of blue rain.

Peter jumped backwards, a disbelieving grin painting his flushed face. "Oh, my god." He whispered, his hands giving slight tremors. "I did it. I did it...its back."

After almost a year, his original power had returned...and it was more than just the reemergence of an ability. It was one of the threads that made up the fabric of whom he was..._and that was why he always felt so incomplete without it. _Peter couldn't wipe the silly, boyish grin off of his face and for an instant he felt as if he were back on a rooftop with Nathan, embracing his older brother over the prospect that they could both fly.

And like the first time, Peter wanted to share this experience with someone he loved..._with Gabriel. Gabriel would've been so enthralled; it had always bothered him as to why Peter's power hadn't returned the same as before after his father had stolen it. Peter pictured showing Gabriel the lightening flow from his fingertips...pictured bending the light shards around them only a moment later...and then taking that moment of invisibility to kiss Gabriel in a very public place...telling Gabriel exactly how he always made Peter feel inside..._

Peter hesitated from his thoughts, as a sudden and demanding surge pounded heatedly through his veins... _something warm and needy was calling to him. _It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar feeling, and Peter felt an uncertain dread seep into him as his ears pricked at the light sound of footsteps behind him. He turned around, surprised to find Claire walking towards him, her hands folded uncertainly in front of her. Blonde curls, still damp from her shower, clung to the sides of her face and neck.

"Hey." She smiled, giving him a light wave. "Do you mind if I hang out too?"

Peter shook his head, quickly trying to clear his mind of its previous unease. "No...no, of course not."

Claire walked up next to him, leaning against the crossbars of the rooftop with a shared reckless abandon. She gazed up into the endless night sky; the stars dotting the black mass with a profound sense of eternity. "Wow...it's beautiful up here, isn't it?"

Peter nodded, solemnly. "Yeah." _It passed through his mind to tell Claire about his rediscovered power, but this sudden demand that was echoing through his bloodstream gave him a moment of pause. Something about Claire's proximity was disconcerting, and he struggled to grapple with a reasoning of why that would be._

Claire gave him a curious glance, as if noting the concern that was now painting his sharp features. She sighed, following Peter's gaze across the darkening city streets. "When I was a little girl, my dad used to travel a lot. I thought he was on business trips but he was actually doing stuff for the Company, of course. But I just remember missing him so badly. I used to go outside and stand at the end of our driveway, thinking that if I looked long and hard enough than I actually could help him find his way back to me faster."

Peter gave a small, ghost of a smile. _She was talking about Gabriel, of course. She was being very kind, trying to see things from Peter's perspective and...ah! What was this pained, nagging that was starting to chip away at him? Something about Claire's presence was driving him to insanity...there was something very wrong beginning to peak in his brain._

Peter shook his head quickly, trying to clear it so that he could take in the meaning of Claire's words. "That's not what I want. I don't want him to come back."

"That's not what I'm trying to say." Claire replied, placing her chin down on her wrists as she continued to watch Peter closely. "I just want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk to somebody." She smiled, softly, "And I _know_ that sounds cliché, but it's true."

"Thanks, Claire." Peter nodded, thoughtfully. The moon was now appearing in the night black sky, its silver glow gently drowning those below in its light.

There were a few more minutes of silence..._and that same strange, pestering sensation_...before Peter spoke again. "I've actually been thinking about something. Do you remember when I told you that I had a dream about my mom and Gabriel? But that I also didn't have the power to dream the future?"

Claire nodded, curiously. "Yeah, I do." She pushed herself closer, a small frown forming on her face. "Why?"

"I think..." Peter hesitated, the weight of his words settling in his throat..._but he needed to tell somebody. He was wondering if his power had indeed come back but that it might've come back...broken. After all what was this strange...ah! What was this strange pain that was now pricking at his mind, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else? _"I think my original power is coming back. I think it has been slowly since I've been with Gabriel."

Claire looked up with renewed concern, "You mean that you can absorb other people's powers again?"

_Something was wrong and it was getting worse. _Peter struggled to maintain his composure, some of his discomfort filtering onto his face. "I don't know the full extent of it yet. I tested it out right now, and I can hold onto a couple of powers at once." Peter swallowed, heavily, the soft breeze playing across his face. He lowered his voice to a dark, hushed whisper, "But...I'm scared now that I might've done something wrong."

"What did you do?" Claire murmured, softly. Her eyes were shining under the starlight, their usual emerald almost black in the nightfall.

Peter opened his mouth to answer her, but the effort was staggering. _There was something so very warm pulsating out of her very being it seemed. Throbbing, throbbing, throbbing in her veins...trying to burst forth and tell him something urgent._

"What's wrong?" Claire pressed, noticing the sudden, pained change in his expression. She surveyed his face, closely. "_Peter_?"

"Something's not right..." Peter gasped, his fingers tightening around the crossbar with undue force. He drew his gaze away from Claire, his eyes burning into the white-knuckles of his hands. "When I was at Nathan's grave today it was just like before...I was _feeling _again. Really feelingagain like I hadn't in almost a year. But just now, when you came up on the rooftop...there—there's something wrong with it." Peter squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers holding onto the crossbar in an attempt to keep him grounded. He hissed out, "It _hurts_...and it's not supposed to hurt."

Claire grabbed onto Peter's arm, insistently. "Peter...!"

And the result was instantaneous. Peter could feel Claire's power flow up into his bloodstream..._it was warm and bright like the sun_...and quite suddenly, the dark churning that had been slowly forming within his gut quelled as soon as it had come on. His old wounds also healed, the bruises and bloodied lip rendered to him through Gabriel instantly disappearing.

Peter touched his face, cautiously, a disturbed realization starting to form in his mind. _Hadn't he just been wanting for an ability that would help him to heal the relentless pain over having lost Gabriel? Hadn't he just been...hungering for it...?_

And in an instant, Peter knew what he was experiencing. He experienced it once before..._during a time when he and Gabriel had thought each other to be family. _And he felt it enter his veins last night..._when he gripped onto Gabriel for one last touch...one last goodbye._

_And at that moment ice seeped into Peter's veins, chilling him to the bone. It all became so very clear to him...all with a terrible, grotesque certainty._

"Oh...god, I took his power." Peter hissed, through gritted teeth. _The demand may have been sated by Claire, but his dread remained_. "I accidently took his power last night..."

"Who's? Sylar's?" Claire demanded, placing her hand on Peter's shoulder. She looked him over, fear painting her gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm so stupid!" Peter raged, turning to Claire in utter helplessness. "I never should've tried to unlock my ability again...I should've just left it alone!"

"Peter, what is going on?" Claire insisted, grabbing onto both of Peter's arms in an attempt to steady him. "You took Sylar's power last night?"

Peter nodded, "His ability is about understanding how things work...or how they should work." He explained, quickly, his hand coming around to grip onto Claire's grasp. He closed his eyes, berating himself for having allowed this predicament to befall him once more. "But there's another component to it. A hunger...it makes you crazy with want. That's why I was in so much pain just now...I needed your power; I needed to have something that could heal me. When I absorbed it from you, I felt better but...but it'll be back..."

"Well, can't you turn it off somehow?" Claire pressed, urgently.

_No, he didn't know how to turn it off because he never knew how any of these powers worked. He just knew how they __felt__...and wasn't that just like him? Blindly stumbling through life...bringing nothing but hurt and pain through his failed good intentions...just because he believed that somehow emotions could trump the cold, harsh truth of reality?_

"No, Claire..." Peter admitted, fervently. He pressed himself firmly against the crowbars, the sensation of freefalling once more rushing through him. "I can't have all of these abilities...as soon as I absorb the wrong one, what happens?"

He turned to face her, an angry fire blazing across his features. "I blow up the city. Or I get this hunger...this need to take. And I hurt people...I _kill _people."

"No, _stop_!" Claire insisted, her voice growing uncharacteristically sharp. "You said that Sylar changed. So there must be some way of controlling this."

"No, he lives with this every day." Peter hissed, bringing his hands up to rush through his hair. "He still suffers but he can control it... he's strong."

"Well, you're strong too." Claire insisted, angrily.

"Not like him." Peter admitted, softly. "God, Claire, I'm such an idiot. I can't handle having powers that I can only control based on how I _feel_...I'm not strong enough. I'm not..." He nodded his head in sudden acceptance. "I'm not..._good _enough."

Claire moved to interrupt him, but he cut her off, grabbing onto her shoulders to emphasis his point. "No, listen to me! I'm not good enough to have these abilities. I'm weak and angry just like everybody else...and I shouldn't be entrusted with any more power than the rest of the world."

"No, you listen to _me_!" Claire snapped, bringing her hands up to grasp onto his arms. "You _are _strong! You say that you use these powers based on how others _make _you feel. Well, why don't you use their power as extensions of your own...have _your _emotions control them, not _theirs_!" She pursed her pink lips together, her eyes burning fire. "Think about it. Sylar's scared of his power, right? So you're scared of his power too. But what if you weren't scared...what if you believed that his power could be used for good?"

"Claire..." Peter breathed out, disbelieving.

"No, listen! What if you used his power to help other people like me...or even like Sylar? People who are scared and lonely and need someone to guide them." Claire's eyes scanned Peter's face, as if searching for a means of salvation. "You said that Sylar's power knows how things work. What if you could absorb their power through your own ability and then see how it works though Sylar's...you could change people's lives. You could save someone like Sylar before he ever allowed his powers to dominate him."

Peter hesitated, Claire's words finding a way to settle into his brain and take root there. "So if my ability was controlling Gabriel's power...you think I could change the hunger into something else...into a means of finding people who need help, who need to understand their ability?"

"Maybe!" Claire nodded, grabbing onto the possibility. "Maybe...maybe there was a reason you and Sylar ended up together. Maybe this was the power you needed to have."

Peter turned away from her in contemplation, newfound thoughts and possibilities all tumbling around in his head. _He could reach out to others with abilities...he could make sure that no one ever felt lost or alone while struggling to deal with the sudden emergence of a power. He could talk to young kids like Gabriel...kids who were angry or scared and needed a certain sense of guidance and care. Someone who needed to realize what it was that was happening to them when they were gripped by a sudden and violent urge to take._

Peter shut his eyes tightly..._urging his power to flow into Gabriel's. He realized that this was something he had never consciously tried before, using his power to influence another's. But he focused on that very prospect now, his blood beginning to pound hotly and brightly as he poured every ounce of himself into making his ability dictate Gabriel's, rather than the other way around._

Peter let out a low, gasp, his body giving a heavy shudder as he clung onto the crossbars. _It flitted through his mind that he might tumble over the edge...and that the weight of the world would then fall with him as well. But it was just a fleeting thought, the rest of his energies dedicated to merging their powers...just as they had once merged their bodies so sweetly and with such reckless, hopeful abandon. They used to think that together they could create something more beautiful and real than if they had remained apart._

"Ah!" Peter groaned, dipping his head down to his chest.

"Peter..." Claire murmured, worriedly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

Peter took in several rough gasps, bringing his hands up to rush through his mess of hair. "No, it's okay." He murmured, softly, keeping his eyes lightly closed. "It's okay...I think I did it. I think...I think that I'm gonna be okay now."

"Oh..." Claire heaved a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms tightly around his form. He returned the hug, pressing the side of his cheek onto the top of her soft hair.

"He fixed it." Peter breathed out, opening his eyes to glance out towards the darkened city streets..._knowing that somewhere, Gabriel was still out there. _"He fixed my ability. And I fixed his." He moved so that his chin was now on the top of Claire's head, his eyes focusing on the light of the moon..._and remembering the time that Gabriel had told him the story of the Chinese woman who lived there. How it was okay for her to have the power because she was the one who hadn't wanted it. _"It's like...it's like they were always supposed to go together."

"I'm not going home tomorrow." Claire whispered in response. "You need time to adjust to your ability again. I'm going to call the airlines and switch my flight."

"Ah, Claire, you don't have to do that..." Peter began, softly.

"No, I am. You need someone to watch out for you." Claire insisted, lifting her head to look up into his face. "I'm gonna stay with you this summer. You don't have to be alone."

Peter shook his head, bitterly. "But he's alone..."

"That doesn't mean that you have to be." Claire replied, simply. "Look, he's made his choices in life. That's not your fault."

Peter quirked his lips, uncomfortably. "I know. And it's healthier for the both of us not to be together anymore."

_But the words rang hollow in his ears, and he wondered if the Peter that had broken up with Gabriel was an entirely different Peter than the one who stood on the rooftop tonight. If only they could've had that night back...if only they could've waited until after today to have confronted each other with their grievances._

But despite these regrets, Peter still felt a sense of understanding and newness swimming through his being.

"This is what I'm supposed to do." Peter murmured, a deep seriousness now painting his features. The wind rustled lightly through his hair, kissing his flushed face softly. "I'm supposed to find the others...to help them."

_It all seemed so clear to him now, a new and profound life path suddenly revealed before him. It was some strangely fixed version of what Gabriel had once tried to do upon discovering his ability. Peter could picture it all now...he saw himself approaching a young kid that sat alone at the bottom of the steps of his school's bleachers. He had an ability, but it made him a freak...an outsider. And Peter would talk to him, would show him how his ability actually worked to its fullest potential...how to use that ability for good. And then there was a young woman...she was on the verge of committing suicide. But Peter showed her the truth...showed her the possibilities that lay within her. She could be a hero...she could help save the world._

_And suddenly, Peter's burden seemed a little lighter. There were hundreds of special ones out there that could help him to save the world...if only they knew...if only someone could explain it all to them...if only someone could articulate how it all worked._

Peter gave a ghost of a smile, placing his chin back down on the top of Claire's head. _He knew why now...he finally knew why he and Gabriel had been thrust into each other's lives. He knew why they always seemed to find one another again, no matter how far away they travelled. God had been present all along, having not abandoned either. This was Peter's new purpose, and it was unfurled before him now with every exciting possibility._

_And Nathan knew too, didn't he? He said that Peter was always everything good in the world...the one who could bring all the chosen ones together. The one who could unite them in a common goal of goodness for this brave, new world._

"_Didn't I tell you, Pete?" Nathan smiled, leaning back casually up against the crossbar. "I'm so proud of you."_


End file.
